Black Halos
by Silver Spider
Summary: “This, Sawyer, is why the Red Sox will never win the series. Some people were just meant to suffer. You and that girl of yours are two of them, but maybe your stronger together.” A SK AU story. CHAPER 30 ADDED
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Black Halos

**Characters: **mostly Sawyer & Kate, with guest appearances by everyone, both from the island and from flashbacks.

**Rating:** PG-13, will go to R in a few places

**Summary:** "This, Sawyer, is why the Red Sox will never win the series. Some people were just meant to suffer. You and that girl of yours are two of them, but maybe your stronger together." A SK AU story.

**Status:** WIP

**_Author's Note:_** Before you start reading this, I should really set the stage for this story. First of all, this is an AU or 'what if' fic. It asks the question "What if some of the survivors met years before the plane crash? Which events would be different? Which wouldn't have happened at all? How would the characters deal with them?" This takes place about 5-6 years, to be more specific. As for ages, I'm using the actors ages as guides for my characters, with a few variations. For instance, Evangeline Lily is 26, so I'm assuming that's how old Kate is. Role that back 6 years, and she's about 20 in my story.

Another thing you may notice throughout the story, are lines from the show. It's sort of like a scavenger hunt. Different characters might use lines that they did in the real Lost show. The line doesn't even have to belong to that character. Jack might say something that Sawyer said originally, and so on. As a reader, have fun looking for those.

I should also mention that I'm in for the long haul with this fic. I haven't tried an epic before, but after writing for 5 years, Lost seems like a good genera to try it. If I ever get a writer's block, feel free to send ideas to get me going. I'm doing a lot of pre-writing for this fic, but I'll consider all suggestions. Last but not least, enjoy, and please review.

**Black Halos**

By: Silver Spider

**Chapter 1**

If asked, Sawyer would say that he could count the number of good people he knew in his life on one hand. His grandmother was a tough old southern lady, but she kept him in line for years after his parents' deaths. Not that it did much good in the end, but he was grateful for the effort. Then there was his uncle Bo, who, despite his own quirks, was always there to give obscure but oddly helpful advice. He was in the ground too, of course. Poor bastard died of a brain tumor years back. He never got to meet Sawyer. He died only remembering the young yet already troublesome teenager called James.

Well, that narrowed the list of good people down to one or two who were still in the land of the living. Sawyer winced, lightly running his fingers across the small stitches on his right temple. Ah yes, there was one good person. A bit starry-eyed and more than slightly idealistic, but a good man none the less. No matter how many scrapes Sawyer managed to get himself into, he could always count on him to patch him back up. Not without a few scolding words, mind you, but that was to be expected.

Sawyer raised the shot to his lips. His eyes scanned the bar for perhaps the fifth time that evening. It was relatively clean, or at least as clean as a bar can be in that part of town. At one point, it must have been a very pleasant restaurant, but the decades had caught up to it. At least it wasn't as bad as some of the places he'd found himself in over the last few years, but there was nothing really special about it. If it weren't for the replay of the last Red Sox game on the television in the corner, Sawyer wouldn't have known he was in Boston.

It was close to one in the morning, and the bartender was wiping down the counter, ready to close up shop for the night. Aside from Sawyer himself, there was only one person in the bar. In the far corner of the counter, he saw a young woman with long blond curls and a far away look that spoke volumes about her. Sawyer didn't see a purse anywhere, but there was a dark navy colored duffel back at her feet. She was dressed in simple blue jeans, and a white shirt under a faded old brown leather jacket. Her delicate fingers played with the napkin, and as he watched her from the corner of his eyes, Sawyer noticed two things: she was not a natural blond and she was too young to be drinking.

"Scotch on the rocks, please," he heard her ask the bartender.

"You got ID, young lady?" he didn't sound accusing, but was clearly uncertain about her age.

The woman reached for the back pocket of her jeans and quickly produced an ID without argument. The bartender took a quick look at it, then looked back at the woman as if comparing the picture to her face. Satisfied, the man handed the card back to her with a smile. Sawyer rolled his eyes. Even from his position several seats away, he could see that the ID was clearly fake, but if the bartender couldn't tell, who was Sawyer to argue? Besides, she looked like she needed that drink.

"I'm sorry, Miss Hart," the bartender apologized. "It's just a formality. What did you say you wanted?"

"Scotch on the rocks," she repeated, and the man went across the bar to retrieve the alcohol.

Suddenly the woman stiffened, her nostalgic gaze turning hard and serious. Sawyer watched as her back straightened, and she looked around the bar listening for something intently. Without waiting for her drink, the blond swiftly got up, grabbed her duffel bad, and headed to the ladies room to her right. A frown passed over Sawyer's brow, until he heard footsteps outside. The rusty hinges of the metal door squeaked as it was pushed aside, and a man entered.

There was nothing terribly extraordinary about him. He was just an average middle aged man with a slightly squared jaw and hair that was already starting to gray on the sides. By his attire, Sawyer guessed that he was probably some sort of law enforcer, and his suspicions were confirmed when the man flashed a silver badge to the bartender as he walked towards the table. Well that explained why it had only taken a glance to convince Sawyer he wasn't going to like this guy. Alright, Sawyer usually didn't like anyone, but there was something about this particular man that put him on edge.

Sawyer could tell that despite his appearance he was quite intelligent. His gray eyes scanned the bar with the determination of a blood hound hunting for its prey, which Sawyer guessed wasn't far from the truth. Still he looked uninterested, taking a small sip of his liquor. When he finally took his eyes off his shot and met the man's gaze, Sawyer saw the vaguest hint of suspicion. _Smart dog,_ he smirked, _recognizes a criminal when he sees one._

The man only acknowledged Sawyer with a nod in his direction, but the southerner didn't return the gesture. Instead he tipped back his drink, letting the entire content of the shot burn down his throat, and reached for his wallet.

" 'Bout time I headed home, Matty," he said to the bartender, throwing a twenty on the table. Sawyer was just about to leave, but then stopped and turning back, running a hand through his hair. "Listen, if Chris comes in, don't let him get too wasted, 'kay? Man's far too good for it."

"You should talk, Sawyer," the bartender laughed. "You drink almost as much as he does. You sayin' you're not good enough to stay sober?"

"I'm sayin' don't let him get wasted," Sawyer repeated, "I'll see you later, Matty."

Without another word, he brushed past the other man. The first thing that hit Sawyer as he stepped out into the alley way behind the bar was the strong smell of garbage. Matty must have forgotten to close the lids, and some rats probably crawled in. It didn't help that several of the protruding pipes were leaking, making the garbage soggy and rotten. The city sounds filled the cool April night air. There weren't too many cars on the streets, but Sawyer could still hear sirens in the distance, not at all uncommon for that neighborhood.

All things considered, Sawyer liked Boston well enough, but he tended to spend his nights in the unsavory part of the city. Not that he didn't have enough money to live quite comfortably, but after growing up in a middle-class southern family and then being shifted around by the foster care system, Sawyer just didn't have any love for the upper class. Unless he was doing a job, of course.

He took out his silver Zippo lighter and a pack of Marlboro, tapping it against the heel of his hand. Reaching inside the pack, Sawyer cursed under his breath when his fingers closed around a single cigarette. If this is what being cheap led to, next time he was buying a full carton. He stuck the cigarette between his teeth and was just about to light it, when a noise from the behind the corner on his right caught his attention. Curious, Sawyer walked around the building and turned the corner just in time to see the navy blue duffel bag fall to the ground from a small widow in the side of the building. It fell out of his view behind a large garbage can, but seconds later, a pair of legs appeared from the same window, and Sawyer watched the girl from earlier in the bar clumsily climb out.

Sawyer casually cocked his head to the side, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth at the sight of the girl's firm jean-clad ass. Then he frowned. _She's just a kid,_ he reminded himself scoldingly. _Get your mind out of the fucking gutter, Sawyer._ Since the window was a good five feet off the ground, she landed on her hands and knees, but quickly got up and dusted herself off. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her, but she didn't seem to notice him. The girl reached for her duffel bag, but before her hand could close around the handle, she froze again. Kicking the bag to the corner, she quickly dodged behind the dumpster, crouching as close to the wall as she could.

_Strange kid,_ Sawyer thought absently and lit his cigarette. If she was from the streets, as the bag suggested, it could be a number of things. Sawyer really didn't see her drink too much, but there could have easily been drugs involved. Then again, she looked a little to clean for that. Whatever was scaring her probably had nothing to do with any kind of narcotics.

"Excuse me, sir," Sawyer turned his attention away from the girl, and watched the law enforcement officer from the bar approach him from his left. "If you have a moment, I'd like to ask you a few questions."


	2. Chapter 2

**Nanci Gemma:** munches on cookies Thanks! You'll find out about the "law enforcement officer" in this chapter! Glad you liked it.

**Kyriel:** It's set in Boston because one of the characters, who is mentioned in passing in chapters 1 and 3 but will appear for the first time in chapter 4, is from Boston. Like I said, the settings will change, but for now and for a good while, they'll be in Boston. Actually I wasn't sure to set this in Boston or LA because I wasn't sure where that other character was from. I finally chose Boston, and was very pleased to confirm that I was right.

**Author's Note:** I bring you Chapter 2! Again, thank you Amanda for beta reading. Please review, everyone. Have fun finding all the show connections.

**Chapter 2**

Sawyer took a long drag of his cigarette and gave the man another glance from head to toe. He let the smoke out of his lungs, filling the air around him with the taste of nicotine, then casually acknowledged the other man's presence as if it was something he shouldn't have been concerned with at all.

"What can I do you for, sheriff? " Sawyer drawled out casually.

"Actually I'm a US Marshal," he corrected patiently. "Are you from the area, sir?"

"Been in town for 'bout six months," the southerner shrugged, "but I've been back and forth for a few years."

"You have family here, then?" the Marshal guessed.

"Nah, but a friend of mine lives around here," he replied. "Why? That a crime these days? Visiting a friend?"

"Depends on the friend," the other man said. "So you know the area pretty well?"

Sawyer's brows drew together, and he narrowed his eyes at the Marshal. The man was clearly fishing for something. He'd been around enough cops to know. "There somethin' I can help you with, _sheriff_?"

The Marshal casually scratched the slight stubble on his chin. He looked down at the ground then back Sawyer. "I'm looking for someone," he told the southerner. "A young woman."

"Well, damn," Sawyer grinned, "and here I thought the law was proper in this town. Ain't you a bit too old to be picking up young working girls?"

The Marshal actually laughed at the comment. "Trust me, you don't know girls exactly like this one. She has dark brown hair, green eyes, about 5' 5", kind of on the skinny side. I have reason to believe she's in the area."

Sawyer didn't even bat an eye, simply released another puff of smoke. "Sorry," he retorted curtly. "Haven't seen any brunettes tonight. Personally, I tend to go for blondes myself."

The men stared at each other in cold hard understanding. The Marshal saw that Sawyer knew more then he was letting on, but he also knew that he wouldn't be talking any time soon. At least not until he knew why the law was after this girl.

"Very well," he pulled out a small white card, "but if you remember something you forgot to tell me, please don't hesitate to call."

"No problem, chief," Sawyer stuck the contact information in his pocket. "Always happy to help."

The Marshal didn't believe him for a single second, but he nodded nonetheless. Sawyer watched him as he disappeared into the dark alley from the direction he came. After a few minutes, he decided the man was far enough away and tore his eyes from the retreating figure. Then Sawyer took another drag of his cigarette and walked around the large trashcan where the girl was still hiding, her duffel bag pressed tightly to her chest. She must have heard his footsteps because she finally raised her eyes to him, and Sawyer saw that they were indeed as the Marshal described: bright vibrant green. There was also a hint of fear in them that he couldn't ignore.

It occurred to him that he must have seemed very imposing to her, especially from her position on the ground. He was tall, fairly well-built, and she just heard him talking to a Marshal with a fluid, sharp tongue as if he had ample practice with cops. Sawyer leaned down so they were at eye level, and flashed her a lopsided smile.

"Well, well," he drawled, "ain't you a little young to be drinking scotch, sweetheart?"

The girl stared back in surprise, but quickly recovered. Sawyer chuckled to himself. She must have been expecting him to ask about the Marshal. Her brows drew together, and she got to her feet, dusting off her jeans. He followed the example, also rising and folding his hands across his chest.

"I'm legal," she replied simply and heaved the duffel bag over her shoulder.

"Really?" he raised an eyebrow at her. "Then why, pray tell, do you need a fake ID?"

"A what?" she asked indignantly. Oh, but she was good. She played the innocent little girl card like a finely tuned instrument, but Sawyer didn't buy it.

"Girl," he said, obviously very amused, "trust me when I say I've been in enough bars. Now I don't know if my buddy Matty's been drinking his own stuff, but I know a fake ID when I see one."

He caught her, and they both knew it. Still she just rolled her eyes at him. "Fine," she confessed, "I'm twenty. Happy now?"

"Not by a long shot. What's your name, little girl?"

"Joan Hart," she replied automatically.

"Nope, that was the name on the ID. Try again, sweetheart."

She was getting angry, and he knew it. He could tell by the way she wrinkled the bridge of her nose, and the freckles lightly sprinkled there became more pronounced. Still she replied, "My name's Annie."

A bit to quick a response. If he had to, Sawyer would have guessed that it wasn't her real name either, but he didn't press further. From the dim light of the lamp a few yards away on the main intersection, Sawyer could see that the Marshal was right about more than just her eyes. She did look about twenty, Sawyer could believe that much, but the girl was also a bit too skinny for her height. If it was any other girl, he would have easily written it off as the ridiculous female belief that men would be more attracted to them if they looked like toothpicks. However, between her duffel bag and the Marshal, he knew it wasn't the case. This girl had been on the road for far too long.

"Damn," he casually flicked the filter of his cigarette on the ground and stomped it out with the toe of his boot, "I'm all out of smokes. There's a 7/11 a few blocks away. Might even get a bite to eat while I'm at it."

It was as close to an invitation as he'd give, but she understood and followed him as he made his way out of the alley and onto the main street. Sawyer observed that she always stayed one step behind him, just in case he'd try anything. That was fine with him. They reached the convenience store five minutes later, and Sawyer glanced at the cashier behind the counter to their left. He was a young man, probably in the first or second year of college. The night shift was the only time students had to make money. It was usually quiet, so Sawyer was not surprised to see text books and papers spread out in front of the youth. So he was actually studying. Good for him.

He'd lost track of the girl, but only for a moment as he saw her move through the aisles. She already had a prepackaged sandwich and bottle of water in her hands. Sawyer noted that none of those things needed to be cooked or even heated in a microwave, for that matter.

"What's your name?" she asked over the shelf.

"Sawyer," he replied. The woman stopped and turned her head. She stared at him in surprise, and he was just about to ask when she started laughing.

"Sawyer?" she repeated. "What kind of a name is that?"

"You're a fine one to talk, Miss Fake ID," he retorted.

"Just tell me you're not from Missouri," she smiled and picked up a box of Animal Crackers.

"Tennessee," he corrected.

"Close enough. What are you doing this far north, Mr. Sawyer?"

For a moment he froze, staring not so much at her but rather into his own past. Then his gaze cleared, and he saw that she was looking back at him in confusion. "It's nothing," he waved it off. "You ask too many questions, little girl, and just call me Sawyer. You done over there?"

She looked at the items in her hands, as if assessing how long they would last, and finally nodded. Sawyer was already at the register when she came up and unloaded her things on the counter. The cashier started scanning everything in, bagging it as he went.

"Marlboro reds," Sawyer told him, and handed the bags to the woman. "Quite a midnight snack you got there."

She didn't say anything, already making her way towards the exit. Sawyer quietly paid for everything and followed, swiping the cigarettes from the counter. Outside the store, the woman immediately unwrapped her sandwich, and it was gone in under a minute. Sawyer emerged a moment later. The night had turned cooler, and he pushed his hands deep into his pant pockets.

"I guess this is it," he said casually. "See you around, Freckles."

Without another word, Sawyer turned his back to her and began walking down the street.


	3. Chapter 3

**S**: A new reviewer! Yay! I promise to try and update regularly. My goal is something like once chapter a week, but with college starting in a little bit, we'll see.

**LOSTfan**: Yep you caught a connection! That's from Pilot part 2, when Kate takes the gun from Sawyer. there are at least 3 connections in this chapter. Glad to have you on board.

**nikki-da-latina**: There is a lackage of Skate fics, isn't there:( Well fear not! Hopefully this'll be a good fix.

**KyrielF**: scratches head I have talent? Really? Never been accused of that before. LOL Just kidding. Thanks for the compliment. I do try to keep everyone in character. It might get a little tricky with Sawyer soon though, considering who I'm making him be friends with. But I believe it works out well.

**Nanci Gemma**: You just keep those cookies coming, I'll keep writing.

**lauren**: Thanks! Hope you enjoy this chapter.

**_Author's Note:_** Episodes connections to look for in this chapter: 4) Walkabout, 8) Confidence Man, 12) Whatever the Case May Be.

**Chapter 3**

He was home only fifteen minutes later. The apartment building was on the very edge of the industrial district, where lawyers, businessmen, and other professionals shuffled through each day. Sawyer's job often took him to that area as well, but his was a different kind of work. Downtown meant wealthy men with easily-distracted, bored wives who were more than happy to let Sawyer show them a good time. Half of them didn't even miss the thousands that suddenly seamed to disappear.

On the other side of the building, the street curved into a neighborhood of drugs, poverty, and crime. The further down the street one traveled, the more activity there was on the street corners, everything from drug dealers to prostitutes. Still there were plenty of milder ways for young wealthy business school graduates to go slumming after two years of rigorous academic work and stiff necked shirts. There were many bars, places to gamble, and live on the edge at least for a short while. For Sawyer, his apartment building was in the perfect location, conveniently situated between work and play.

It was not tall, only four stories, and most of the tenants were clean enough. The residents were either elderly, who no longer had the means or family to look after them, or singles who couldn't afford to live in a better neighborhood on their own. The thin stretch of space between one building and another was home to several stray dogs and alley cats. The mutts, long used to the scents of all the residents, never barked at Sawyer's approach. So when a chorus of howls sounded from the side of the building, he listened.

"You stalking me, now?" Sawyer questioned the apparently empty air.

He didn't have to wait long for a response. A second shadow stretched on the pavement next to his own, and Sawyer heard her step closer. He had to give her credit: not many people could sneak up on him, and she managed to follow him from the convenience store without making a sound. That, at least, warranted a response.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure, Freckles? Can't be my good behavior. Been a while since I did my fair share of community service," he threw over his shoulder. He was talking about the Marshal, and she knew it, but when silence was her only response, Sawyer glanced at her. There was no sign of the bags from the store. The duffel bag was once again the only thing with her.

"I just forgot to thank you for the food," she said. "So... thank you."

Was it just his imagination, or was there a note of anxiety in her voice? Sure, there was a US Marshal after her. Who wouldn't be nervous? However Sawyer suspected it was something else.

"You're welcome," he told her, "but somehow I don't think you followed me for a mile just to say thanks."

"I was just wondering," she hesitated, but her mind was made up. "I was wondering if you'd mind letting me stay at your place for a night."

"You want to crash at my place?" he repeated.

"Just for one night," she assured him, then added. "You should know that I have no way of repaying you. _No way_." She put strong emphasized on the last two words, but to her relief Sawyer only laughed.

"Oh don't worry, sweetheart. I might not know you that well, but I know you're not _that_ kind of girl. Just gotta look at you to know," he was up the three small steps in one swift motion. "Besides, I'm not into kids."

"I told you, I'm twenty," she shot back indignantly.

"Yeah, you did. Problem is I forgot to mention I'm almost thirty," Sawyer glanced back at her from the top step. "Well, what are you waiting for, girl?"

She didn't need to be told twice, and followed him inside as he made his way through the lobby towards the stairway. Sawyer's apartment was on the top floor of the four story building. When they finally reached it at the end of the long hallway, Sawyer pulled out his keys and pushed the door open.

"Okay, quick tour," he said. "The living room's to your left. Kitchen's to your right. Bathroom's straight ahead, and there are two bedrooms on either side of it. Mine's on the right."

The apartment was actually much cleaner then what would have been expected from a twenty-nine year old single man in that part of town. The living room was simple enough, with a couch, coffee table, and television taking up most of the space. There wasn't too much clutter, save for the papers and unopened mail on the table. The kitchen and small dining area on the right looked like they hadn't been used at all, which wasn't too far from the truth. Sawyer had only been in Boston for six months and tended to eat out.

He saw her looking around the place with a measure of approval. Her eyes drifted to the skylight in the ceiling of the living room then shifted to the window that led to a small balcony and a fire escape ladder. Sawyer noticed that she stayed a little too long on the window, as if contemplating something.

"It looks nice," she finally commented, letting the duffel bag slide off her shoulder and hit the floor with a thud.

"Gotta keep the ladies happy," he threw his keys on the kitchen counter and pulled of his jacket.

"Where can I..." she looked around the apartment once more.

"Couch's all yours," he told her. "I'd offer you the second bedroom, but it lacks a few essentials... like a bed. Plus it sort of got cluttered up with other random junk."

"It's no big deal," she said. "Couch'll be just fine. I had worse."

Sawyer wasn't sure if he heard the last part correctly, but decided not to ask. It was none of his business, after all. He kicked off his shoes at the door, and padded to his room. "Make yourself at home, sweetheart," he called back to her. "See you in the morning."

The door shut behind him, and she finally let herself drop onto the couch with a sigh.

* * *

Sawyer was surprised how late he'd slept the next morning. Not that he didn't enjoy the night life and sleeping till noon the next day, but there were places to go and people to see, so he'd been planning to be up by nine at the latest. He was just about ready to force himself up, when a strange smell drifted by his nose. Sawyer frowned to himself, and sat up, swinging both legs over the side of the bed. Not only was he not used to waking up so late, but the smell of eggs, sausages, and fresh coffee coming from the kitchen just behind the closed door was also forging to him. 

He tried to recall anything that could possibly be responsible for the smell, and then remembered: the girl. She must have gotten up before him and taken over the kitchen. Sawyer had been with women like that before. Women, who, for some inexplicable reason, thought that a one-night stand meant that they could cuddle in the morning and cook breakfast as if they were back home with their husbands. It always annoyed the hell out of him, because women like that tended to be clingy and needy, but for some reason with this girl it was almost cute.

When he finally came out of his room, Sawyer was greeted with the sight of two plates of eggs with a cup of steaming coffee on either side. She was standing on the other side of the counter in the same form-fitting jeans as before but her new shirt was bright orange. Her disposition seemed to have improved since the previous night. She was certainly a lot less nervous and looked almost happy.

"Morning," she greeted him cheerfully, but then frowned at his obvious lack of cloths. "Nice boxers."

"Thanks," Sawyer grinned, not missing a step. "I would wear my lucky ones with the little red hearts, but they're in the wash. What's for breakfast, hon?"

"Not much, considering your fridge is almost empty. All I could salvage was a couple eggs from the very back corner and a box of nearly expired sausages in the freezer," she scooped the cooked meat from the frying pan and put it on the pate furthest from her own.

"Don't like sausages?" he wandered, sitting down on the other side of the counter.

"I'm a vegetarian," she explained, and began to eat her eggs. Sawyer eyed the breakfast for a moment, wondering if it was safe to eat. Finally he took a bite of the sausage and to his own surprise, discovered that it was quite good. The girl kept glancing at him every few seconds until Sawyer finally put down his fork.

"Okay, what is it?" he asked, a slight hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Nothing," she shrugged, and went back to her eggs. "Just wondering how you managed to get that gash on your head.

"Oh this?" he pointed at the stitches on his temple. "Bar fight. Nothing exciting about that. I was playing poker with a few guys, and things got a little hairy. Trust me, the other guys look worse, 'cause me? I got lucky. Friend of mine's a doctor, some big shot surgeon down in the main city."

From the look on her face it was clear that she was surprised to hear that a man like him had respectable friends, but politely didn't comment. They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence, and when both were finished, Sawyer got up and handed her his plate.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," he said.

"I guess that's a hint for me to do the dishes," she shook her head, also getting up. "Fine, go shower. I'll clean up around here."

"Thanks for the permission," he handed her his dish, and went to the bathroom.

She rinsed the dishes and his empty cup in the sink, and took her own half-filled mug to the coffee table. The woman was just about to put it down when she realized that there was no clear surface. With a sigh, she carefully lowered the cup on the edge of the table and began staking the various papers into piles. She'd just cleared enough space, when one of the papers caught her attention. It was different from the rest, not a clean white sheet with neatly typed letters, but rather an old wrinkled piece of lined paper with the handwriting of a child. She knew she shouldn't have been reading it, but curiosity got the better of her.

Sawyer emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, feeling refreshed. He'd actually bothered to put on pants and was drying his dripping blond locks with a towel. He saw her at the coffee table, her face frozen in shock, disbelief, and confusion. At first confused, his eyes finally came to rest on the letter and envelope in her hand. The happy-go-lucky grin on his face turned hard and serious. He crossed the living room in a few brisk steps, and wrenched the letter from her.

"Get out," his voice was dangerously low, seeping with anger. "Get out!"

Clearly very frightened, she grabbed her duffel bag from the corner, and run out the door without a word. Sawyer lowered himself onto the couch with a sigh, calming down a little, and read over the letter once more as if making sure if it was alright.


	4. Chapter 4

**Merry2BLost:** I'm involving everyone – well at least I hope to – in this story. Actually you'll come across four other characters in this chapter, but only two of them will be in the spot light. Those two will be in and out of the story in quite a few places. Thanks for the review, and I'm glad you're enjoying this.

**Cine (loves Sirius:** Trying to keep the grammar mistakes to a minimum, so I'm sorry about that. And I'm glad everyone in character. I only hope you still think so after this chapter. drum role of foreshadowing

**MistyX:** Thanks for the review. When I got the idea for this story, I also can't really tell you what drew me into it. I didn't design it, as such. Everything just came to me. Like a stream of random ideas in my head. Oo And I promise this will be different from In Hiding. For one thing, there will be many locations for this story. It will take place over a much longer period of time, and its start is five years prior to the crash. Of course it's also AU. Though I love In Hiding, I'm really trying to do something much different here. Hope you like it.

**KyrielF:** Dripping wet Sawyer... mmm eyes glaze over No, I'm sure it had absolutely nothing to do with you liking this chapter. As for Sawyer's friend, that's what this chapter's for. Hope it lives up to your expectations. Thanks for the review.

**_Author's Note: _**Episode references to look for: 11) All the Best Cowboys have Daddy Issues. Also think of Outlaws and a little scene from Exodus pt 1 as you read this chapter. As always, enjoy and please review.

**Chapter 4**

No one touched the letter aside from Sawyer himself. No one. There was one other man on the face of the Earth who knew the very tip of the ice burg that was Sawyer's history, and even he had never read the letter. Suddenly the apartment felt too small, too confining. He had to get out at least for a little while. Some fresh air would be good, he finally decided. Who knows? Maybe there would be a job in it for him at the end of the day.

Though he hated the formal wear, Sawyer threw on clean pants and a suit, since sometimes work required a professional look. He was ready within minutes and made his way quickly down the four flights of stairs. Outside the building, Sawyer absently played with his car keys and glanced at both directions before deciding to head into the center of the city. As he got in, somewhere in the back of his mind, Sawyer registered the ambulance sirens from several blocks away, but he didn't spare them a second thought.

There was one particular part of the city that Sawyer was particularly fond of, where the bases of the sky scrapers were lined with small stores and coffee shops. This was the area where the wealthy women spent their monotonous days aimlessly browsing through clothes that were far more expensive then what they were worth. So when Sawyer did find a job, it worked out well for both parties: he got paid, and the girls could no longer complain about boredom.

Sawyer found a coffee shop and sat down at an outdoor table, pretending to read a newspaper and occasionally sipping his coffee. His eyes roamed over the people passing by, scanning for a potential target. He watched a young girl of no more than fifteen walk past followed by a very angry looking man who was no more than one or two years her senior. The way she stalked off, indignantly ignoring him, and the way he angrily admonished her about something Sawyer didn't quite catch, the southerner couldn't tell if the man was an over-protective older brother or a put off boyfriend. Either way, they were just kids.

He glanced down at his watch and saw that it was almost mid-afternoon. There was no point in staying longer, besides the fact that he wasn't really in the mood. Sawyer finished his coffee in one gulp and threw the paper next to the empty cup. Sawyer spent the next several hours aimlessly wandering the city, before he finally decided that there was really nothing for him to do. Sawyer started back to his car and was just about to head home, when he realized that he was only a few blocks away from an excellent little restaurant.

It was more of a diner then a restaurant, really. The food was cheap and quick, second rate quality really, but the liquor was surprisingly good. The diner and general area around it was supposed to be family friendly because of its close proximity to the city's largest hospital, so the selection of spirits was quite limited. Still whatever was available was descent, and Sawyer visited the diner quite frequently whenever he wanted a little food with his liquor. Sawyer greeted the waitress with a nod and was just about to sit down at the bar when commotion from several tables away caught his attention.

"Come on, Dad," an evidently exasperated male voice was saying. "That's enough. Put the drink down and go home."

Sawyer's brows drew together, his own dinner all but forgotten as he got up and headed in the direction of the voice. _There they go again_, he though. Christian Shepard, a man in early sixties, sat at the table with a glass of some sort of hard liquor at his fingertips. He was obviously very angry, something that was either caused or enhanced by the alcohol, because Christian was never a fun drunk. Over his shoulder, his son, Jack, looked worried and upset.

"Leave me alone," Christian shot back. "You've done enough for one day. Is it too much to ask of you to give me a break?"

"Dad," Jack sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "please go home. Look, I took care of everything, okay? Just go home."

"Better listen to your boy, Chris," Sawyer walked up to the table in a lazy stride as if he didn't have a care in the world, and stopped just in front of Christian. The older man glared up at him, angry and betrayed, but he knew he couldn't fight both of them. Releasing a sigh of disgust, Christian pushed away from the table and stalked out of the restaurant. Jack's gaze followed him as he walked past the large glass windows and disappeared around the corner. The doctor sighed, and it was as if all the tension in the air was suddenly gone. Sawyer paused, then sat down across the table from him. Though he tried not to look concerned, Sawyer knew Jack could see straight through it. They'd been friends for far too long.

"Thanks," the doctor finally said, running a hand across his short trimmed hair. "I can't figure out why he listens to you, but I'm glad he does."

"Nothing's ever boring with you Shepard men," Sawyer replied, and Jack could have sworn that for a split second he actually saw sympathy in the other man's eyes. He gave a short laugh and reached for his father's abandoned alcohol.

"Hey, I don't think you need that any more than he does," Sawyer gestured in his direction, and Jack slowly nodded in agreement. "What was it this time?"

"He really blew it today," the doctor leaned back in the chair, slowly shaking his head. "I mean, he really _really_ blew it. If I hadn't gotten down to OR in time..."

"Whoa, wait a sec," Sawyer held up his hands. "Backup, 'cause you're losing me here, Doc."

"Sorry," Jack took a deep breath. He was too angry and frustrated with his father, and it took a moment for him to reorganize his thoughts. "This girl was brought in this morning. She ran out into an intersection before the light changed and was hit from the side by a small passenger Ford. Luckily for her, the guy in the car slammed on the breaks, so it wasn't a full-force impact, but she was still a mess when the paramedics brought her to OR. I didn't even know about any of this until one of the nurses called me in from my office. She said that my dad was operating, but something was wrong with him. He was unfocused, and his hands were shaking."

He stared out of the window, detached from the story . Sawyer had seen him like that before and knew the rest of the story couldn't be good. Jack didn't like speaking poorly of his father. Actually he didn't like talking about the man at all. Christian was a highly respected man, and it was very well deserved. He was, after all, one of the best surgeons in the country. But there was a darkness to him that the public didn't see, and Jack was forced to constantly confront it. Sawyer saw the way he looked at his father, how he longed for the man's approval, how much he loved him even if Christian never seemed satisfied. Jack was the only one who dealt with Christian when he was at his lowest, because his own wife wouldn't admit that he had a problem. That wasn't entirely true: Jack was not alone, and deep inside, Sawyer thought that maybe he knew that. After all, they really had been friends for too long.

"I ran down to OR," the doctor continued, "and literally pushed him out of the way. I sewed her up, and that's it. I think... I hope she'll be okay, but if I hadn't gotten down there..." He ran a palm over her face. "I honestly think he could have killed her."

"Damn," the other man's voice was almost too low to hear, and the two sank into silence.

"And she's really young, you know?" Jack continued. "I don't know, maybe early twenties. I think she was traveling or something, maybe new in the city."

As his words sank in, Jack's voice began to fade in Sawyer's mind. Instead he heard something else. Sirens. He'd heard ambulance sirens near his apartment when he went out in the morning, but had been too distracted to pay much attention. _Fuck_. Sawyer's eyes went wide, and he stared at Jack in realization, but the other man just kept talking.

"Her clothes were kind of dirty, and she has this mess of badly dyed blonde hair and..."

"Freckles," he whispered, and Jack frowned.

"Excuse me?"

"She has freckles ," Sawyer explained absently, already getting up.

"Well, yeah," Jack was really confused at that point as he looked up at the southerner, "but how did you..."

"You said she's at the hospital?" Sawyer interrupted him, and Jack simply nodded. "Take me there."


	5. Chapter 5

**domaholic17:** Hey I'm doing my est. I don't think anyone can complain with how fast I got this chapter up. Yay for doing nothing in college!

**Lanter:** You know I don't get into Aus either. Imagine how surprised I was to find myself writing one. But I am glad you're enjoying this. It's always an extra pleasure to hear from someone who didn't expect to like the story from the start. Thanks.

**nikki-da-latina:** It;s okay, no one is dying... yet. (insert evil laugh here) Kate's back in this chapter, so don't cry.

**LOSTfan:**Yep, you found Shannon and Boone. I'm not sure if they'll be back or if this is their only cameo, but Jack and Christian will both be a huge part of the story for the next several chapters and then be back later. I like Sawyer and Jack as friends here too. After seeing Exodus pt 1, I could really see that happening.

**Errant Bee:** Thanks. I really love all the connections too, and I can't tell you how the idea came to me because it just did. It comes to me in scenes that I later connect with a plot. That might be why they seem so vivid because in my head they play like a movie. I mean, it's scary how clearly I can see all of this happening. Anyway, thanks for the review.

**_Author's Note_: **Episode connections to look for: 9) Solitary.

**Chapter 5**

The hospital was right down the street from the restaurant. When Jack had first started working there, his father warned him that he'd get sick of the food within days. Jack didn't listen, of course, but in a week he found himself at the restaurant, sharing a well deserved lunch break with his father. Christian had laughed, patted Jack's shoulder, and didn't even say I-told-you-so. After that, it was Jack's favorite place to eat. But now it was back to work, and Jack led the way as he and Sawyer walked through the hospital corridors. If there was one thing that always got to Sawyer whenever he visited the other man at the hospital, it was the smell. It was a mix of medicine and sterility that he couldn't quite put a name to it, but it bothered him almost as much as the elevator music.

He leaned on the desk at the nurses' station, looking through the window into the recovery room. She lay on the bed dressed only in the white hospital gown and covered by the cotton sheets. There was an IV attached to her right arm, but there was no other form of life support. Even from his place across the hall, Sawyer could see that her breathing was more or less even and took that as a good sign. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Christian wasn't the one who blew it. He may have almost killed the girl, but if it wasn't for Sawyer, she wouldn't have needed to be in the hospital at all. Next to him, Jack was talking about something, describing some of her injuries. What was he saying? Oh right, something about the accident.

"It was actually not as bad as we thought at first," the doctor said. "She was hit from the side, so theres a fracture in her right femur, but the bone didn't break completely so it'll take less time to heal. There was some internal bleeding, but that's under control. When she wakes up from the anesthesia, Ill ask if there's someone we could contact for her."

_Good luck finding 'em_, _Doc_, Sawyer thought to himself, but instead asked, "Don't you people have a way of finding these things out?"

"Yeah, with a proper ID," Jack told him, "but the only one she had on her with the name Joan Hart, wasn't in any of our databases."

"Ever think she mighta lied about her name?" Sawyer raised an eyebrow at him.

"Why would she do that?" Jack frowned at him. "It's stupid to lie about your name."

Sawyer couldn't help but laugh at that. He marveled at how a man as intelligent as Jack could be so naive at the same time, but Sawyer had no intention of disillusioning him. No point in telling the man who faced death on a daily basis that the world was even uglier than he imagined. Sawyer noticed that despite his apparent optimism about her recovery, Jack still looked concerned. The doctor fiddled with the pen in his hand, tapping it against the side of the table every few seconds, which annoyed Sawyer.

"So what exactly is it that you're not tellin' me, Jacko?" the southerner folded his hands over his chest.

"What?" Jack snapped out of his thoughts. "It's nothing."

"Oh please," Sawyer cocked his head to the side, as if he was talking to a child who was trying to hide the fact that he doodled on the bathroom wall. "You're a real bad liar, Jack."

"Okay it's not nothing, but it is confidential information," Jack replied, but he didn't look terribly firm in that conviction.

"Bull shit," Sawyer shot back. "Come on, Doc. It's me you're talkin' to."

Jack chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, uncertain if he should say anything. It wasn't an official report or any other private patient-doctor discussion, but nevertheless he was uneasy. Still the truth was he did feel like he needed to tell someone, even if chances were the girl herself would most likely not have wanted such sensitive information revealed. Finally deciding, he stepped closer to Sawyer and lowered his voice.

"Look, you don't breath a word of this to anyone," he said quietly. "Not a soul, especially not the girl..."

"Spit it out already," Sawyer hissed impatiently, but the tone of Jack's voice was beginning to worry him.

"Before she went into surgery, she had a full physical to determine exactly what needed to be done," Jack explained carefully. "She seemed okay... well, as okay as she could be under the circumstances..."

"But..." Sawyer prompted.

"But, there was..." Jack took a deep breath. "There was some scarring on her inner thighs?. It is old and very mild, but as a doctor and as a man, I can tell you one thing, that's one place where a woman should never have scars. I'm not sure I like what this could mean."

Sawyer didn't reply, as both men sank deep into thought. He'd pegged her for a runaway, though a fairly capable one, but Sawyer hadn't begun to think about what she was running away from. Jack's implication bothered him more than he cared to admit.

"You know, you never did say how you know her," Jack gave him a questioning look.

"She crashed at my place last night," Sawyer replied, without thinking what it sounded like.

"Sawyer!" Jack was obviously appalled. "She's barely an adult!"

"I know that, Jackass!" he shot back angrily. "Look, she literally followed me back to my apartment, okay? Said she needed a place to stay for the night, that's all," Jack waited, and Sawyer rolled his eyes. "On the _couch_, moron. She slept on the couch."

"Well aren't you a regular southern gentleman," Jack shook his head sarcastically, but he finally believed him.

"I aim to please. Look, you mind if I stay till she wakes up?"

Jack glanced around the floor, then at the clock on the wall. The minute hand slowly crawled to twenty after four. "Yeah, go ahead. I have to make a few more rounds before I can call it a day, anyway. Besides, it might be nice for her too see a friendly face."

"Friendly face," Sawyer muttered at Jack's retreating back. "Yeah, right."

He waited a full minute before entering the room, and another before taking a seat in the chair closest to her bed. _Stupid girl_, he thought to himself, as he watched the covers rise and fall as she breathed. He saw her navy duffel bag carelessly tossed on a chair across the room, and got up, hoping that there was something inside that would give him a clue to the girl's real identity.

The thought that he was invading her private things didn't even cross his mind, as he unzipped the bag and reached inside. There were a few articles of clothes, none of which smelled particularly clean. Sawyer pulled out a small tin can with that held a wad of large bills and a stack of fake IDs bound together with a rubber band. He set the can aside and began going through the IDs one by one. There were quite a few of them, several issued in different states.

Slowly Sawyer realized that his preconception about the girl was beginning to seem further and further from the truth. She wasn't just a runaway. This woman had been on her own for quite a while, and she was obviously quite good at surviving on the streets. Fake IDs, large sums of cash, and no sign of any credit card that she could be traced through. Sawyer also pulled out a small pocket knife and smirked at it with a measure of approval. Well at least she had a way of defending herself. The last thing in the bag was an old tattered paperback book. Sawyer flipped it to read the front cover, and almost dropped in the chair when he read the title. "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" by Mark Twain. What she was doing with a children's book, he cold only guess, because it wasn't typical for someone like her to carry around any more than absolutely necessary.

He heard her moan from the bed, and quickly threw everything back in the duffel bag, zipping it back up. Sawyer walked back to her and sat down on the edge of the bed, watching as she slowly opened her eyes, taking a few seconds to adjust to the light. She hadn't seen him yet and looked clearly confused at her surroundings, so Sawyer decided to save her the trouble.

"Now look at this scrape you got yourself into, little girl," Sawyer chastised her teasingly. "I leave you alone for a few hours, and look what happens."

Her head snapped back at the sound of his voice, and she stared at him in bewilderment. Sawyer felt a pang when he saw fear in her eyes. After the way he'd behaved that morning, he could hardly blame her. Slowly, the fear faded, and she simply frowned up at him.

"Where am I?" her voice was raspy from the anesthesia.

"St. Sebastian Hospital," came another voice from the door, and Jack strode into the room, holding a chart in one hand. "You were brought in this morning following a car accident. You're lucky to be alive."

"Don't you listen to him, Freckles," Sawyer objected in good humor. "Who needs luck when they got the best damn doctor in the city workin' on 'em?"

Jack gave him a pointed look, and Sawyer sat back in the chair. The doctor flipped open the chart and began writing something. He looked back up at the girl. "I'm going to ask you a few questions, miss. Now, I guess you're new in the city, right?" She nodded. "Where are you from?"

"I traveled a bit," she shifted in the bed.

"Is there anyone we can contact for you?" Jack continued.

"No. Look, no offense, doctor, but how long do I have to be here?" The hospital was bothering her, but only Sawyer took note of it. Jack just wrote it off as typical impatience.

"Soon, I hope," he promised. "Can I get your name, miss?"

"It's Annie," she replied, to which Sawyer quietly raised an eyebrow, his own suspicions confirmed. There was no way it was her real name. Telling a stranger at a bar was one thing, but if she was really trying to keep her identity secret, the girl would not reveal hear true name to a doctor with possible ties to legitimate authorities. Again, he said nothing. Aloud.

"Okay, Annie," Jack closed his chart. "Do you have a place to stay?"

"Yeah, she does," two pairs of stunned eyes turned on Sawyer. "She can stay with me."


	6. Chapter 6

**Nanci Gemma:** Everyone says they like Sawyer and Jack as friends, and I'm very happy for it since I was a bit anxious about trying something so radically different from the show.

**Merry2BLost:** Thanks! Hope the rest will be to your liking as well.

**domaholic17:** I'm much better about updating this one than I have been others. Mainly because I'm so into writing it. So hopefully I'll have the time to update as often as I want. I won't, because I just started college, but I will do my best to keep up with everything.

**MistyX:** bows head in shame Sorry, that was insecurity talking. It's just that In Hiding is really amazing, and since mine is also an epic fic, comparisons are inevitable. But it's better being compared to something good, than something second-rate, right? I'm glad you (and most other readers) like Sawyer and Jack as friends. I was honestly inspired to do this from watching Exodus pt. 1. Their interaction in it was one of the most powerful scenes in the whole season. Plus, as I keep saying, I think that one of the the very few things that keeps them from being friends is that they're both attracted to Kate. Not a problem here, since they're friends long before she comes into the picture and Kate's too young for Jack. There's one more thing, but it's be a spoiler if I said it. Don't worry, you'll know by chapter 8.

**Stahlfan125:** There will be more people from the island, that I guarantee. I already found places for Charlie, Locke, Claire, and Michael. I'm looking to see where I can fit the rest. There will also be some flashback characters, mainly form Kate's and Sawyer's pasts, but also from Jack's.

**_Author's Note:_** Episode connections to look for: 7) The Moth and 9) Solitary. Two lines that originally belonged to one character are given to another, with ever so slight modifications.

**Chapter 6**

Jack was the first one to emerge from the shock. He glared at Sawyer and grabbed his upper arm a bit tighter than necessary.

"Excuse us for a moment, please," he told the girl and dragged his friend into the hall. Jack noticed that Sawyer kept shifting his gaze to anything that would let him avoid Jack. Not for the first time in their long friendship, Jack resisted the urge to smack some sense into him.

"I have to know," his hands sank into the pockets of the white lab coat, "are you insane?"

"Doc..."

"No, don't 'Doc' me, Sawyer. I seriously want to know," his voice raised. "Because you've done some pretty stupid things, but this takes the cake, icing, and candles. This isn't just some stray animal that followed you home, so it means you can keep it. She's a person!"

Sawyer's gaze was downcast. What would Jack know? "A person who got hurt because of me," he muttered under his breath.

He hadn't meant for the doctor to hear it, but it just wasn't his day. Jack's brows drew together. "What's going on, Sawyer?" he demanded angrily.

Sawyer chewed on his lip for a moment. "This morning," he started, "while I was in he shower, she... she somehow got her hands on my letter. When I came out and saw her reading it, and I sorta..."

"You blew a fuse," Jack finished, knowing that his friend could be very short tempered.

"Yeah," Sawyer admitted. "Anyway, she was spooked, ran out, and I guess we all know the rest."

Jack's demeanor softened. The accident was not Sawyer's fault, at least not directly, but it was useless telling him that. It was the mention of the letter that worried Jack. Through out the many years that he knew the other man, Jack had seen him reading it many times, seen how his face screwed up in pain, but every time Jack asked, Sawyer would angrily shoot back that it was none of his business. They'd been on each other's nerves enough, but it was only when the subject of the letter came up that Sawyer was truly angry with him. The southerner wouldn't speak to him for days afterwards.

One day, while Sawyer was off again sulking by himself in some bar, Christian stopped by Jack's office. The older man could always tell when something was wrong between them, like a father of two squabbling siblings. He never interfered, but that day he gave Jack a piece of advice. _Don't ask him about it again, Jack_, Christian had said. _If you value your friendship, don't ask him again. When he feels like telling you, you'll know._ Jack wasn't sure what it was, but something in his father's voice startled him that day. It was as if Christian knew something about Sawyer that Jack didn't. Whatever it was, Jack never asked about the letter again.

"Look, I think it's a pretty safe bet that she doesn't have another place to stay," Sawyer's voice sounded through his musing, "and I do kinda owe the kid. 'Less, of course, you got a better idea?"

"I don't," Jack admitted, "but I can't say I'm thrilled with this arrangement. I don't have to remind you that you lead a less then squeaky clean life. I never asked what you did for a living, but I think I wouldn't be too far of if I guessed it wasn't something legal. Am I right?"

"What of it?" Sawyer rolled his eyes. _Wonderful_, he thought. _Another world famous lecture by big brother Jack._

"Have you even considered what would happen if she got caught between you and some of the people you deal with?" Jack's hands were firmly planted on his hips.

"Guess you don't care that I'm between jobs?" Sawyer offered with a smirk.

Jack threw his hands in the air in obvious frustration. "I don't want to know," he turned on his heal and stalked down the corridor. "I sleep better at night not knowing."

Sawyer took that as Jack's blessing. Sometimes the man had his head so far up his ass, it astonished him. Jack had to worry about everyone and everything, it was just part of his character. Not the best part, but Sawyer had to appreciate that the man honestly cared. Not many of those left. Still smiling to himself, he went back to the girl's room.

"All taken care of, sweetheart," he said, shutting the door behind him. "Soon as Jack gives you a clean bill of health, you'll be free to go."

The girl's green eyes searched over his face in wonder. Sawyer didn't need to be a mind reader to guess what she was thinking. How could she accept help from a person who she'd known for less than a full day? How could she trust a man who, just hours ago, screamed for her to get out of his home? In the end, both questions were useless, because they both knew she needed his help.

"So," he lazily took a seat at her bedside, hands folded in his lap, "now that we'll be spending a bit of time together, maybe you'd like to tell me your name?"

The question threw her, and she stared at him with a frown. "I already told you. It's Annie."

"Yeah, about that... it worked the first time," Sawyer told her. "Not very well, mind you, but hey, who am to doubt a lady's honest word? But see, this is a whole 'nother ball of wax, 'cause it just so happens you gave the good doctor the same name."

Caught twice by the same man. First, about the fake ID, now about a fake name. Slowly she began to realize that there was something not quite right about him. The man she once thought was a simple working class guy was shaping up to be someone much more complicated. He was too observant, too patient in getting what he wanted. For a moment, her mind floated back to the morning when he'd emerged from the bathroom and seen the letter in her hands. Before his look turned to one of anger, she'd caught a glimpse of something else. Something terribly familiar that she couldn't quite name.

"I'm Kate," she finally replied just low enough for him to hear.

This time he believed her. There was just the right amount of hesitation in her response that he knew she wasn't just making up a new alias. "Alright, Katie..."

"No, just 'Kate'," she cut him off suddenly.

"What's wrong with 'Katie'?" he wondered, now simply curious.

"I just don't like it, okay?" she snapped back. "You don't like 'Mr. Sawyer,' I don't like 'Katie.' Just 'Kate' is fine."

"Whatever you say, Freckles," he got up.

"I just gave you my name," she complained with a yawn. With all that took place that day, she was still exhausted.

"Yeah, but I like 'Freckles' better," Sawyer got up, making his way to the door. "You just get some rest, little girl. I'll be back later."

She didn't have the strength to argue, and slipped back into sleep. Sawyer took a final look at her, before quietly closing the door to the recovery room.

* * *

It took Kate a few moments to remember where she was and why she was there. Initially the slow and steady drip of the IV woke her up, and Kate had to take a few steady breaths before the urge to get up and run subsided. She really did hate hospitals, if not for the needles than for the fact that they tended to be filled with high moral people who always tried to do the 'right thing.' Her idea of the 'right thing' was very different from theirs.

The past forty eight hours had not turned out as she planned at all. She'd come to Boston for the sole reason of getting lost in a big city. She never intended to become dependent on a complete stranger. Kate was still trying to figure out what his idea of the 'right thing' was, though since he hadn't turned her over to the Marshal when he had the chance, she figured he was at least somewhat safe. Speaking of whom...

Her eyes opened, and she scanned the room for the southern man, but he was nowhere in sight. Instead, the doctor from earlier was standing at the foot of her bed, once again making notes on in his chart. He noticed that she was awake and gave her a smile.

"Good morning, Annie," he smiled at her. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she replied, and it was actually an honest answer. Her leg still hurt quite a bit, but the minor bruising around her body had subsided. "Thank you for everything, doctor."

"Jack," he replied in good nature. Just then the door opened and a nurse came in holding a breakfast tray. She smiled at Kate then greeted Jack, setting the trey on the small table next to the bed. Her task accomplished, the nurse left the room.

"Looks like breakfast is served," Kate said, trying her best to sound excited over the watery scrambled eggs and lightly burnt toast on her plate.

"It looks worse than it tastes," Jack assured her.

"Right," she nodded. "Are you contractually obligated to say that?"

Kate took a bite of the eggs, then another, and pushed them away in disgust. She reached for the orange juice to wash down the strange aftertaste left in her mouth. _Looks like I'll have to wait for real food_, she thought to herself. Jack was on the other side of the room, checking some kind of monitor. Seemingly satisfied, he made another note in the chart.

"A friend of mine is studying to be a doctor," Kate commented wistfully.

"What was that?" Jack looked at her over his shoulder.

"My friend," she repeated. "He's a premed."

"Yeah?" for some reason Jack looked pleased. "What school?"

"I'm not sure," she avoided the question. "I haven't been in touch with him in a while. But as far back as I can remember he's always wanted to be a doctor, to help people. He's kind of one of those well-meaning individuals who makes everyone else's problems his own."

"I've been accused of that," Jack laughed, taking a seat, "mainly by Sawyer. He says I butt into his business too much."

"So you are the friend he was talking about," Kate realized. "He said he was in town visiting a friend who was a doctor. It's strange."

"What is?" Jack asked curiously.

"You just seem so... different," she shrugged.

"The difference between us isn't that big," Jack told her. "I can see why it might look like that sometimes, but it honestly isn't."

She gave him an are-you-kidding look. "You sure you're not just saying that because I have to live with the guy?"

"No, I'm not. Okay, I admit he's not the easiest man to get along with. He's rude, bad-tempered, and even obnoxious at times. And he's very secretive, not unlike ourself," Jack added pointedly. "But those are just rough edges. In fact, he's got a lot of good points. He's loyal. It's true that very few people ever earn his trust, but those that do, have it for life, and get his unwavering loyalty as well."

"Those are very powerful things to say," Kate had to admire the faith he had in his friend. Whatever history the two men shared, it forged a strong bond between them.

"He is a good man," Jack assured her. "Not the kind of man I'd take to a Sox game, because he's really not to hot on crowds, but if I was ever stranded on a deserted island, there's no one else I'd rather have by my side."


	7. Chapter 7

**UV: **Good to hear from a new reviewer, and I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Hope this chapter's to your liking.

**LOSTfan: **Yep, you got both of them! Here's a cookie! Glad you like those. Two more in this chapter.

**MistyX: **It's all good. All Skaters, including me, worship In Hiding. And I heard all those spoilers already on Lost-Forum, so it's cool. Like I keep saying, the relationships between Jack and Sawyer will get much more complicated as the story goes on. Jack will be out of the picture for a while, and they won't part on a good note. That'll have to be reconciled, and the thing that finally brings them back together is... intense to say the least, especially for Jack. The only thing I can say with certainty is that it won't be Kate that divides them, at least not because Jack will suddenly look at her in a romantic way.

**Lanter: **Yeah that's interesting. At first I thought I'd have them like really close friends and have Jack know everything about Sawyer, but then I realized that didn't make much sense. Jack knows general things. For instance, he knows Sawyer had a crappy childhood, but he doesn't know why. He also doesn't know that Sawyer is not his real name... but someone else does.

**Nanci Gemma: **Like most best lines, that one just came to me. I love it too, and you're right: it describes their friendship perfectly. There will be more moments like that.

**Stahlfan125: **It's really fun to work with Sawyer and Jack as friends. Their relationship is just so funny. Like two brothers, with Jack being the reasonable older one and Sawyer bing... well Sawyer. It'll get more complicated as the story goes.

**Cine (loves Sirius:** Kate is scared, but she really doesn't have any other options, and she knows it. For now, that little incident will be in the background, but it'll come back around when they're forced to leave Boston. She actually won't know that he wrote that letter for quite a while. She'll have to get used to him while still thinking that he did. That's pretty drastically different from the show. Sawyer and Jack's friend ship will make sense, and this chapter will help. It might seem pretty easy going at first, but it'll get more and more strained. Some things between them will have to be resolved by the end.

**_Author's Note: _**Episode references: 9) Solitary and 11) All the Best Cowboys have Daddy Issues. Thanks, everyone, for the reviews. I promise the story will get a faster pace, but for the next few chapters I'm setting the stage so everyone understands the AU I'm creating. Enjoy, and please review.

**Chapter 7**

Sawyer rubbed his stiff neck, rolling back his shoulders in an attempt to get rid of the uncomfortable feeling. _Serves you right_, he thought to himself. He wasn't quite sure when he'd fallen asleep, but he woke up in the chair beside Kate's bed early in the morning. The uncomfortable sleeping position left his muscles stiff and screaming for relief. Knowing that she wouldn't be awake for several more hours, he decided to get some fresh air.

Wandering around the block for a little while, Sawyer found himself in front of the diner where he met Jack and Christian the previous night. The rumbling in his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten in a while, and the smell of coffee from inside was too good to pass up. He pushed open the double doors and was almost knocked over by a man who quickly shuffled out of the restaurant. The entire place was a buzz with commotion. There was no point to stay, and Sawyer decided that a cup of coffee and maybe a sandwich would suffice.

"What'll it be, sir?" the blonde waitress smiled at him pleasantly.

"Coffee, black," he replied, "and a turkey sandwich to go."

"It'll be about five minutes," she jotted the order down on the pad. "Sorry about the wait, but it's the lunch rush."

"It's fine," Sawyer muttered, his eyes already being drawn away to the booth by the window. "Just drop it by whenever." His back was already to her, Sawyer wandered over to the booth.

"So," he slid into the seat opposite of the current occupant, "how's the hangover?"

Christian raised his pale gray eyes to Sawyer, scowling at the younger man over his cup of coffee. "What do you care?"

"Oh yeah, silly me," Sawyer ignored the question. "Experienced drinkers don't get hangovers. Doesn't help the grouchiness, though."

"Have you something to say to me, Sawyer?" the doctor demanded angrily. Whether drunk or sober, the last few years had rarely found Christian in good spirits.

"Nah," Sawyer shrugged. "Just wanna know what the hell you're doin' to yourself."

"Are _you_ lecturing _me_?" the ire was rising in his voice. "You don't find that unbelievably hypocritical?"

"Hey, my life's been fucked since day one," Sawyer held up his hands in defense. "You, off all people, know that. What's your damn excuse? You got everything, Chris. An honest to God job with more respect then most people even dream of. Your boy worships the ground you walk on, and you treat 'im like shit."

"Jack's a grown man," Christian replied. "He doesn't need to be babied. For that matter, neither do I."

"I ain't babying you," Sawyer shot back defensively, but then his voice lowered, and he leaned in, resting his elbows on the table. "Look, you know me, Chris. Know me better than anyone else on this God-forsaken ball of mud, even Jack. You know how I lost my old man. I just thought..."

"Coffee, black with turkey sandwich?" the waitress appeared at the table with a cup of steaming coffee and a brown paper bag.

Sawyer got up, taking his food and muttering a thanks under his breath. He took a single step towards the door, then stopped at Christian's side. "I just thought it'd be a real shame if Jack lost his."

Without another word, he marched out of the diner, and the fresh air was welcoming after the stuffiness inside. How long had he known Christian? Four, maybe five years? They'd met when the good doctor was trying his luck at a card game at a bar in the part of town where he clearly didn't belong. Sawyer, then in his early twenties, found it ridiculous that a couple able bodied men were ready to beat up an old guy because he'd forgotten his wallet. Sawyer got a bloody nose and several nasty bruises for his troubles. He was a recluse youth, ready to pick a fight with anyone for any reason. Some things didn't change, of course, he chuckled rubbing his stitched temple.

Sawyer had wanted to leave the bar that night, just be left alone, but it didn't happen. The old man's son, Jack, had apparently been looking for him. When he met Sawyer, Jack just couldn't let it go, couldn't leave the man who'd helped his father without thanks. He'd been annoyed at first: what did some preppy medical student know about him? However even then, Jack was insistent, and after years, Sawyer had to admit that both the other man and his father had grown on him. He'd made a point to visit Boston as often as possible, especially when things got tough.

"Excuse me," a bump on the shoulder pushed Sawyer out of his thoughts. The southerner was about to tell the man exactly where to get off, when he saw that it was the same person who rushed past him when he'd first come into the restaurant. There was nothing terribly imposing about him: just a middle-aged man with the beginnings of baldness creeping across his head. He had a worn overcoat and a cigarette in his mouth, but all it took was a look for Sawyer to stop.

"Rob," he cursed, catching the man by the arm before he could run off again. "What the hell are you doin' in Boston, you piece of shit?"

Robert, who was a full head shorter than Sawyer, smirked up at him. "Victor sent me. We heard you were in town, my friend."

"I ain't your friend," Sawyer grabbed the little man by the collar and literally dragged him around the corner of the diner to a much less conspicuous side street. "Talk. What does old man Victor want with me?"

"What he always wanted," Robert choked, "the money you owe him."

That caught Sawyer off guard, and the man in his grip wiggled free and indignantly fixed his shirt. The money, right... Sawyer remembered there was a reason he'd hesitated before coming back. He'd almost forgotten about the scam about a year ago that he'd somehow managed to screw up. Obviously his patron hadn't.

"He'll get his damn cash," Sawyer hissed at Robert.

"For your sake, my friend, I hope so," the man had already turned his back to Sawyer. "Twenty-three grand don't just grow on trees."

* * *

Sawyer was still mulling over Rob's words when he returned to the hospital, but they faded when he was greeted with Kate's anxious green eyes. She sat up in the bed, wide awake, her blonde curls unruly from sleep. Blonde wasn't her color, he decided. What in the world made her want to dye her hair that hideous, bleached tone? Sawyer briefly wondered what her natural hair color was. _Probably brunette_, he thought, _maybe a redhead_.

"Miss me, Freckles?" he set his coffee and brown bag on the small table by her bed and offered her a grin. Sawyer pulled out his sandwich and began unwrapping the cellophane. He was ready to take that first sweat bite, when he noticed her staring intently at his sandwich. He rolled his eyes.

"Grub's really that bad?" she didn't say anything, but Sawyer already knew. One wasn't friends with two doctors and not hear the full account of the horrors of hospital cafeteria food Without another word, he handed her the sandwich.

Kate took it eagerly. "Can I ask you a favor?" she mumbled as she chewed her food.

"What? You mean besides letting you crash at my place?" he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Look, I'm grateful," Kate said. "I really am. But if you wouldn't mind asking your friend Jack to let me go a little early, I'd really appreciate it. It's nothing personal. I just hate hospitals."

"You hate hospitals?" Sawyer repeated, wondering how long it would be until she realized that she wasn't fooling him. Sure, her act might have worked with anyone else. With those big innocent eyes, who could have ever guessed that she'd lied to him on every possible turn? "Sure it has nothing to do with the fact that there's a US Marshal that wants your pretty little head on a silver platter."

Her expression darkened immediately, eyes falling down to her hands resting on the sheets. "You don't owe me anything, you know," her voice was just above a whisper. "If you don't want me to stay, just say so."

Sawyer gave himself a mental kick. He'd said too much. "Forget it, kid," he waved it off. "I'll see if I can get the good doc to bend the rules just this once."


	8. Chapter 8

**Jen: **Well here it is. Hope it's to your liking. The story will pick up the pace, I promise.

**Brenenna**: Hey good to hear from you. Especially since you're a non Skater. We learn the most from our critics, so I'm extra happy you like this story.

**PocaDot17**: Oh thanks for that. I am aiming for the believable so that's good to hear. It's really scary how this plays in my head like a movie. I'm such a dork

**Sapukthic**: Wow thank you so much! As for how many chapters, I don't know, but I'm going to try to break my record of 50 page length. Right now they're up to 20 and I'm not even close to being done. I mean they're not even out of Boston and they sill have to go to NYC, Iowa, and LA. At least. There's soooo much more. It'll probably go well over 100 (200? crosses fingers) pages. Thanks for the wonderful review.

**_Author's Note: _**Episode connections: 8) Confidence Man and 20) The Greater Good. No direct quotes, but the connections are there.

**Chapter 8**

Unlike his father, Jack wasn't lucky enough to eat out. His last patient kept him well into his lunch break, and the last fifteen minutes gave him just enough time to run down to the cafeteria and grab something half-edible before he had to return to his office. The chef handed him a plate of pasta, slopping the sauce on top without ceremony, and Jack headed for one of the tables scattered throughout the cafeteria. He sat alone, slightly weary of the flirtatious glances sent his way by a table full of nurses.

Jack's mind was never quite at rest. He was always working out something, always thinking. If it wasn't the last procedure he'd preformed, it was how he was going to handle the next time his father took to the bottle. He almost didn't notice Sawyer walk up to his table, pull up a chair, and turn it around so he could sit resting his hands over the back. Jack only glanced up at him, catching sight of a wide grin, before he sighed and put his fork down.

"No," he told him firmly.

"I didn't say anything," complained Sawyer.

"I know that look," Jack said pointedly. "So whatever you want, the answer is no."

"What makes you think I want anything?" Sawyer pulled out his best innocent-little-boy look. "Say, how's Sarah?"

"She's fine," Jack replied courtly, "but somehow I don't think you came her to chat about my love life. So let's have it: what have you done this time?"

"Okay, you got me," Sawyer held up his hands in mock surrender. "I was just wondering if there's any chance the girl... Annie, could be released a little early."

"Early?" Jack looked confused. "Well, she's getting better, but what's the hurry?"

"Said something about hospitals making her nervous," Sawyer shrugged. "I know it's gotta come as a shock to you that not everyone loves needles."

"It's not that," Jack shook his head. "I just thought that maybe we should at least try to find out something about her, maybe find family to contact. I mean, there has to be... there has to be someone who misses that girl."

"Yeah, I just bet there is," blue eyes flashed with anger, and Sawyer glanced around the noise cafeteria before leaning in. " 'member those scars, Jack? You really wanna send her back to _that_?"

Jack looked down at his plate guiltily. Of course he didn't want that. He'd seen enough victims of domestic violence to know how hard it was to get out. If that was indeed what she was, and Jack had a strong suspicion that it was at least partially true, sending her back was not an option.

"Let me keep her overnight for observations," he relented. "She can go in the morning."

"Sounds good," Sawyer nodded, pleased with a job well done. "So, how _is_ Sarah? I hear it's getting pretty serious between you two."

"Things are... progressing," Jack admitted with a wistful smile.

"Progressing?" the southerner laughed at his choice of words. "This a relationship or a disease you got goin' on over there, Doc? Damn, you must have some real skills between the sheets for her to put up with that."

Jack actually blushed, which caused Sawyer to laugh even harder. Yep, there it was again: Jack's unbelievable ability to be the all-knowing doctor and turn tomato red like a middle-school boy at the mention of sex.

"Out with it," Sawyer prompted. "Do I hear wedding bells in the near future, or what?"

"It's not _that_ serious," Jack took a drink of his water. "Yet."

"So you're at least thinking about it?" Sawyer asked. "Good for you, Doc. Good for you. But jus' so you know, if you need a best man or somethin', don't come cryin' to me. Get your buddy Marc to do it. I hate the monkey suit, and I don't do speeches."

"No, of course not," Jack said sarcastically. "You'd probably say something that would embarrass me."

"Oh, Doc," Sawyer looked mockingly offended. "Would I _ever_ do that to you?"

"Yes," Jack said firmly, "and you'd think it was funny, too. Not to mention that I shutter to think what you'd do for the bachelor party."

"Bachelor party?" Sawyer looked up with interest. "I knew there were perks to this best man thing."

Both men laughed, mostly at the absurdity of the conversation. Each knew that if there was a wedding, Sawyer was the only one Jack would ever consider as a best man. The doctor had plenty of friends, but none quite like Sawyer. Others came and went, maybe visited for holidays, but there was nothing extraordinary about any of them. He never knew when Sawyer would show up, but when it was important, Jack knew he could rely on him completely.

* * *

After leaving Jack alone to finish his lunch, Sawyer's first stop was at the hospital lobby where he discreetly stepped into a corner with pay phones, pulling a fist full of change out of his pocket. He threw some coins into the furthest phone, dialed a number, and waited three rings before the call was received.

"Welcome to Western Union Bank," came the pleasant automated voice on the other line. "Please enter your account number."

Turning his head in either direction to make sure no one else was around, Sawyer punched in the sixteen digits.

"Please enter your pin," he did as instructed. "Your current account balance is eight thousand four hundred dollars and forty-two cents. Thank you for choosing Western Union. Have a nice day."

There was a click followed by the sound of the dial tone. Sawyer thought for a moment, then reached back into his pocket hoping to come up with some scrap of paper. There were several more accounts to check, and he knew he wouldn't be able to remember them all. His hand closed around something with sharp edges, and Sawyer frowned pulling out the strange object. It was the card the Marshal gave him a few days ago in the alley when the whole mess with the girl first started. One side red "Marshal Edward Mars" with a telephone number under the name. The other side was blank, and Sawyer realized that he had completely forgotten about it. He didn't know why he hadn't thrown it out as soon as he got it, but now he was glad he hadn't. Pulling out a pen, he quickly jotted the total amount from the bank account on the blank side of the card.

Sawyer repeated the process several times before he had a list of seven totals. Slashing a line under the last one, he quickly added up a final sum. _Fuck_. He stuck the card back in his pocket. _Nothing I can do about that now_, Sawyer reasoned, heading back up the main stairway. _But who knows? Maybe a decent payd__ay would turn up in the near future_.

Kate was waiting for him when he reached her room, and the first thing Sawyer noticed was the book in her lap. It was lying open across her knee, and he could see just the vaguest outline of Tom Sawyer's tussled sandy blond head and the twig between his teeth. Sawyer smirked, jerking his hand at the book.

"I know you're a kid," he asked, amused, "but ain't this a bit much?"

Another sad look passed over Kate's face, but she traced her fingers over the cover and looked back up at him. "He reminds me of someone," she finally said. "Tom Sawyer. He reminds me of someone I shouldn't forget."

Both concentrated on the book, Kate deep in thought, and Sawyer wondering what she meant. He didn't say anything, though, already knowing he wouldn't get an answer.

"I was talking to your friend, Jack, this morning," she said suddenly, turning his attention away from the novel. "He seems nice."

"Oh he's nice alright," Sawyer laughed, sitting down. "He's also a space cadet."

"Good for him," Kate smiled, and this time Sawyer knew exactly what she meant. Kate recognized something in Jack that he already knew: that the man was a genuinely good, well-meaning person, and if that meant he was a little sheltered, so be it. Despite her young age, Kate had clearly seen the darker side of life. He could see it in her eyes, her mannerism. _That's one place where a woman should never have scars._ He mentally shuttered at Jack's words.

"Speaking of the good doctor," Sawyer remembered why he'd come up in the first place. "He says you're free to go first thing in the morning."

"Thanks," Kate looked relieved.

"Yeah, sure. Well I'm gonna get out of your hair," Sawyer told her. "Got some last minute things to take care of. Might take a while so I'll probably see you tomorrow."

"Okay," she looked a bit disappointed, watching as the door closed behind him.

Outside the room, Sawyer leaned against the wall, deep in thought. There was a lot more she was still not telling him, but he wasn't one to pry. Sawyer knew all too well what it was like to keep secrets. In a way he had to admire her. Fate dealt the girl a shitty hand, true, but she was making her way through. Sawyer wasn't in the habit of feeling sorry for people or extending them a helping hand. Life was a bitch, and one had to deal with it, pull himself up by the bootstraps. But Kate didn't need his pity. She was strong in her own right, willing to do whatever needed to survive. In a way, she reminded Sawyer of himself, and for a split second, no matter how absurd it was, a thought flashed through his mind that maybe they had some sort of connection.


	9. Chapter 9

**BofBanoff:** Of course I reviewed! I loved that one and your new story. I really hope you stick with it. Thanks for reviewing mine.

**Cine (loves Sirius**: No, Jack doesn't know Sawyer's a con man. But Jack's not stupid: he knows he's into something illegal though, but tends to kind of sweep it under the rug for the sake of their friendship. Their friendship is about to get a lot more strained and will need to be resolved before the end.

**evil desmond:** omg I love you! You're my new best friend! Well right after my beta reader. Bt honestly thanks a lot. I do love spoilers.

**jennifer:** Thanks a lot. I'm glad you like this story.

**_Author's Note:_** I think I'll pull a Leah Kate and do regular updates once a week. Hopefully that seems reasonable. Say, on Thursday? Since Leah's moved her updates for On the Road to Mondays, I might as well take over the Thursday since I only have one college course then. nods Yep, that's the plan. So there's an update right now, and unless chapter 10 goes really quickly and I can get it up by this Thursday, it'll be up next Thursday.

**Chapter 9**

Kate awoke early in anticipation of her release and was rather annoyed to discover that the she beat the sun to it. She wasn't sure when Jack would be up to officially let her go, so she spent a few hours reading. When the nurse came in with her breakfast tray, Kate only smiled politely, letting the woman leave it on the table. Another hour passed, and Kate was seriously considering giving the hospital breakfast another try, but she was saved by Jack, who entered her room with a smile and a pair of crutches.

"A cast?" Kate looked more worried then Jack would have expected. "I'm really not that..." she tapped her right leg and winced at the sharp pain, "hurt."

"It's not that bad," Jack chuckled. "Your leg just needs to be fixed, but a cast isn't necessary. A brace will do just fine, but you'll still need these for a few weeks." He held up the crutches. "Ever used them?" Kate shook her head. "It's easy. You just lean in, put your weight on them, and swing through."

He took the crutches in both hands and leaned on them to demonstrate. Jack didn't get a chance to show her, when the sound of laughter rang through the air.

"Lookin' good, Jackie boy," Sawyer commented brushing past him. "This your morning entertainment, Freckles?"

Kate covered her moth with her palm, trying in vain to stifle the giggles. Jack just ignored them both, resting the crutches against the wall. "You're a barrel of laughs, Sawyer," he told the southerner.

"I try, Doc," he settled in the chair next to Kate, crossing his legs and flashing a dimpled grin.

"Too much," Jack replied, and turned to Kate. "The paperwork is all ready, so whenever you're dressed, you're free to go. Do you want me to call a nurse to help you?"

"I can manage," Kate pulled herself up not without a great deal of effort, swinging both legs over the side of the hospital bed. "That is, if both of you would be so kind as to give me some privacy."

"Of course," Jack nodded, and both he and Sawyer left the room. The doctor reached for some papers at the nurse's station, flipping through them for a few moments.

"Thanks," Sawyer finally said. "You know, for helpin' her out without too many questions. I half expected your overdeveloped morals to take over."

"Honestly?" Jack admitted, leaning against the counter. "They almost did. I don't think I would have been so easily inclined to... overlook certain things it was anyone else that asked."

"Gosh, Doc, that just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside," Sawyer joked. "So how much do I owe ya?"

Jack frowned and gave him a you're-kidding-right look. "Do you ever owe me?"

* * *

It was past noon when Kate and Sawyer finally made it back to his apartment, mainly because it took a while for Kate to become competent with the crutches. She kept trying to move much faster than what the instruments would allow.

"You fall, and I ain't gonna carry you, little girl," Sawyer warned her, he held the door to the building open for her, and watched as she stumbled up the three small steps.

"For the last time," Kate hissed at him. "I am not a little girl!"

Sawyer only smirked. At least she was mad at him, and not feeling sorry for herself. He decided to spare her the four story hike up the main stairs and called the elevator. Less than a minute later they were inside, and Kate immediately plopped down on the couch where she'd spent the first night, glad to be off her crutches. Her underarms hurt, but she didn't complain. Sawyer just kicked off his shoes and disappeared into the second bedroom.

"Hey!" Kate shouted after him. "What are you doing in there?"

"Never you mind, Freckles," he called back.

Annoyed, she leaned back on a cushion, propping her injured leg on the couch. Kate didn't like her current situation at all. She didn't like depending on a man who was still essentially a stranger, didn't like being immobilized. Jack said that the brace would have to stay on for at least six weeks. It seemed for that time she would have to be content with Sawyer's company.

Kate soon became bored with sitting, grabbed her crutches, and hobbled the few feet to the other bedroom. At the sight of the room, her past surprise of the neatness of Sawyer's apartment disappeared. The room was filthy. There were empty soda bottles and cigarette packs all over the floor, as well as other unmentionables such as condom wrappers and Playboy magazines. _Lovely_, she thought sarcastically to herself.

"Thought I told you to stay in the living room?" Sawyer asked her, picking up a container of Chinese food takeout and throwing it in the trash.

Kate only glared at him, slowly sliding down to the floor and finally letting go of the crutches. "The TV didn't make for a good conversationalist," she complained. "Almost as good as you, but not quite."

"Cute, Freckles," he glared at her. "Real cute. Long as you're here, might as well help clean up since it'll be your room anyhow."

"Am I sleeping on the floor?" she raised one eyebrow. "No offense, but the couch is much more appealing."

"No," Sawyer got up, dusting off his jeans and went to the large closet to his left. Apparently it was much deeper then it looked, because he completely disappeared from her view momentarily, emerging seconds later with a mattress still wrapped in its plastic cover. Kate was impressed. "There's a metal frame that goes with it too," he told her, resting the mattress against the wall. "Just gotta put it all together. That, and clean up this crap."

"I see that," Kate pointedly held up an old magazine with a picture of a naked woman on the cover and a round stain from a coffee cup conveniently located over her unnaturally large breasts. "Anyone ever tell you you're a pack rat? Or that you have a one track mind?"

"Hey, if a man my age tells you that he's not thinking about sex at least once every thirty seconds, he's either sellin' or got a little too much taken off at birth," Sawyer defended himself indignantly I'm just a typical twenty-nine-year-old hot blooded guy. Live in the real world. I like smokes, sports, and women."

"And what don't you like?" Kate tossed the offensive magazine away and picked up the basketball that rolled to her feet.

Sawyer pretended to think about it before replying. "Anything that comes between me and smokes, sports, and women."

"You cannot be this shallow," Kate rolled her eyes at him.

"Easily," Sawyer grinned. "Go ask Jack if you don't believe me."

He went back to cleaning, moving some of the items into the closet while making a pile of other things he was willing to part with and throw away. Kate, essentially useless due to her immobility, rolled the basketball in her hands. She watched Sawyer clear the space, and begin to assemble the metal frame for the bed. He must have bought it after he left her hospital room the previous day, and the act surprised Kate a great deal.

Her first opinion of Sawyer was based solely on his proximity to the bar in the seedy part of town. Even after he refused to reveal her whereabouts to the Marshal, Kate guessed that it had more to do with his personal distaste for authority than any real desire to help her. Her opinion improved throughout the night as he actually went out of his way to accommodate her, but all of that went out the window when she read the letter. What kind of a sleaze and lowlife was this man who not only robbed a family of their savings, but a child of any chance at happiness? He was almost as bad as... well, that was a different story entirely.

"Son of a bitch!" she glanced up to see Sawyer shake his hand in pain. He'd managed to stub his thumb on one of the metal rods.

"Sure you don't want to read the manual?" she asked reasonably, not without a little amusement ringing through her voice.

"This ain't rocket science, Freckles," he shot back. "I don't need the damn instructions."

"Whatever you say," she shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

This couldn't be the same man the letter was written to. There was no question he had his rough spots. His own best friend, Jack, admitted that, but the doctor had also assured her that Sawyer wasn't nearly as bad as he seemed, and Kate was inclined to believe that, if only because Jack reminded her so much of Tom. There was also the fact that if Sawyer was really as bad as the letter made him out to be, he would have never kept it. A man as vile as the one that letter was written to couldn't have any morals to begin with, therefore he would have felt no guilt, no remorse.

That was it. The look in his eyes seconds before he tore the peace of paper out of her hands. The look she couldn't place, but nevertheless felt a deep connection to it. She'd caught it on his face again when she first opened her eyes at the hospital and saw him looking down at her. It was guilt. Kate watched as the bed frame began to take shape in his hands, and she knew everything he did for her was because he felt responsible. Maybe he was the letter's 'Mr. Sawyer' at one point, but he wasn't that man anymore. When she looked at him, she could almost see the separate pieces. It was as if Kate was looking at two entirely different human beings.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Author's Note:_** So this chapter is a bit longer than usual. I'm going to try to gradually increase the length as the story gets darker. That being said, this is totally a filler chapter, lots of humor and such. After this one the story will actually... go somewhere. I do have a plot, I swear! And as always, everyone thank you so much for the reviews. Especially all my new reviewers! **Episode Connections**: 19) Deus Ex Machina and 3) Tabula Rasa

**Chapter 10**

Kate looked down when one of her crutches got tangles in a dirty, nearly molding sock carelessly tossed onto the floor. She shook it off, groaning in disgust, and proceeded to the kitchen. She was not at all surprised, though frustrated, to see that once again there was nothing but leftover takeout and sour milk in the refrigerator. Glancing up the clock, she saw that it was a few minutes past three, which meant that Sawyer would be back soon from whatever he did during the day. Sure enough she didn't have to wait long to hear the front lock turn, and footsteps pad across the corridor.

She reached down and picked up the offensive sock, waiting for just the right moment when Sawyer emerged from behind the corner, then tossed it into the air in his direction. It went flying and strategically landed right on his head, flopping over the very middle of his face. Kate thought it might make her feel better, but it didn't. For Sawyer's part, he stopped dead in his tracks, too startled to react. He closed his eyes, and Kate thought it looked like he was counting to five. Sawyer finally pulled off the sock, and glared at her.

"What's the big idea?" Sawyer demanded, both angry and surprised. He was ready to throw the sock back at her, but Kate gave him a him a hard look.

"I'm not sure you know this," her hands would have been on her hips if it weren't for the crutches, "but normal people don't live like this."

"What?" he asked, annoyed.

"Normal people don't have a pile of dirty laundry three feet high piled in their living rooms," she gestured to the far left corner. "Normal people wash the sheets after their latest conquest. "Sawyer raised an eyebrow at her. "And at the very least, normal people have something other than molding leftover pizza in the fridge.

Sawyer stared at her for a full minute, before his deep throaty laughter filled the air. That didn't help at all, only fueling Kate's anger. "Sweetheart, I've been doin' just fine before you came. Haven't needed a mother since I was eight."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

_Fuck._ What in God's name possessed him to say that? A shadow passed over Sawyer's face. He tried to cover it with a scowl, but it was too late. If he learned to read her well, Kate was a quick study, learning to catch his looks and moods. Sawyer would have never admitted it, but it unnerved him. He was a solitary creature, used to being on his own, and he liked it that way. But after only two weeks, she'd already started getting under his skin, and not in a good way.

"Nothing," he said roughly. "What'd you want?"

Kate looked at him and decided not to push for much. She wasn't sure at which point the conversation turned darker, but something that was said turned him inward. Demanding anything radical was pointless, so Kate decided to go for the very basics.

"Just take a trip to the supermarket," she asked. "Nothing big, but if you could pick up some bread, milk, and fruit, that would be nice."

"Fine," Sawyer nodded, once again grabbing his keys from the counter.

"Great," Kate's face brightened. "Feel free to get me some tampons while you're at it."

Sawyer stopped and turned back, his scowl replaced with a wide grin. "Freckles, your entire attitude's been explained to me in one word."

He was through the door before Kate could process the comment and get angry, but Sawyer could feel her glare on his back.

* * *

Sawyer growled under his breath as he loaded three overflowing bags of groceries into his car. Supermarkets were definitely not his scene. The only people who shopped there were mothers, who somehow managed to push shopping carts and strollers with screaming toddlers, or old people in scooter-like wheelchairs. Either way they took up space, and got in his way. Then there was the small problem that even after six months in Boston, Sawyer had never been to a grocery store. If his meals didn't come from some coffee shop or bar, he grabbed them at the 7/11 down the street. It took him a full hour to find the food he thought Kate had in mind, and another twenty before he found the aisle with the toiletries.

He had no idea there were so many different kinds of tampons. There were several shelves devoted solely to the product, housing many different brands and types. Cardboard or plastic, odor absorbent or regular. Sawyer had absolutely no clue what the differences were. He stared at the selves, until he caught funny looks from some of the passing women. One finally took pity on him, probably sympathetic of the look of complete bewilderment on his face, and asked if he was shopping for his girlfriend. Not bothering to explain, Sawyer nodded. The woman looked at the shelf for a moment, picked out a box, and handed it to him with a smile. Sawyer didn't think he'd ever been so grateful in his life.

But if he thought the humiliation of the trip was over, Sawyer was sorely mistaken. Just as he was about to shut the trunk closed, he heard two different sets of lightly stepping footsteps and laughter behind him. _Of course_, Sawyer thought sarcastically. _Why should my life be easy?_

"Sawyer," Jack's familiar voice called out to him from down the parking lot, and the southerner turned.

As he guessed, Jack was not alone. Keeping half a step behind the doctor was a woman in her late twenties. She had sandy blond hair, the short straight tresses falling to just a little below her shoulders. There was really nothing particularly striking about her, but she seemed kind enough. Jack was holding her hand, Sawyer noted, smirking. _Well ain't that cute?_

"What's up, doc?" he asked, zipping his coat back up.

"Just out for a walk," Jack replied, then realized he was forgetting something. "Sorry, where are my manners? Sawyer, this is Sarah. Sarah, Sawyer's the old friend I've been telling you about. He comes in and out of town every once in a while."

"Pleasure to finally meet you," she smiled, holding out her hand. "Jack's told me nothing but good things about you."

"Really?" the southerner pretended to look surprised. "That's real strange, 'cause Jack's usually such an honest guy." All three had a good laugh.

"So what are you doing here?" Jack glanced over his shoulder at the bright glowing sign of the supermarket. "Don't tell me you've abandoned your undying devotion to processed food."

"Har har, very funny," Sawyer rolled his eyes at him. "Doc's a comedian now. What's the world comin' to? Nah, it ain't anything big. Just my house guest asked me to pick up some stuff for her."

Jack's gaze shifted to the still-open trunk, and it took Sawyer a split second to follow it as it came to rest on a corner of the pink box of Platex sticking out of the bag. Before Jack could open his mouth, Sawyer held up both hands.

"Don't," he said. "I had a really long day, so just... don't say anything."

"I wasn't going to," the entire situation was obviously very amusing to the doctor. "This is what women do to us: make us run errands for them all the time."

The comment earned him a jab in the ribs from Sarah, and it was Sawyer's turn to laugh. Sarah shook her head at Jack and looked down at her watch. "Damn," she winced. "I have to go." She reached over to Jack and kissed his cheek. "I'll see you soon, okay? It was nice to meet you, Sawyer."

As she went back down the parking lot, Sawyer noticed a slight limp in her step. Jack had told him about Sarah's accident a little over a year ago. He also said that based on everything he knew about medicine, she should have been paralyzed for life. To the present, Jack still didn't know what medical miracle allowed her full feeling in her legs. According to him, Sarah got off relatively easy, having to deal with only a year worth of physical therapy. Whatever the case, Sawyer was sure she would be fine in the long run. Jack was more than happy to take care of her, and both seemed very fund of each other.

"I should get going too," Sawyer slammed the trunk shut.

"Yeah," Jack nodded thoughtfully. "Hey, I'd like to come with you. See how that girl, Annie, is doing."

"Sure," Sawyer walked around to the driver's seat and opened the door. "Get in."

* * *

"Honey, I'm home," Sawyer called out in a sing-song voice. He put two of the bags on the kitchen table while Jack brought in the third behind him.

"You cleaned," Jack observed, surprised. "So where is she?"

As if on cue, Kate came out of her room. Jack could see that she was much more adept to the crutches than the first time she tried them. She stopped in the doorway, her eyes falling on Jack. What the doctor took as a look of surprise, Sawyer recognized as something else: fear. Not of Jack directly, but of being recognized by someone from the respectable part of society. Still she didn't let it show.

"Good to see you again, doctor," she put on a smile and sat down in the nearest chair. "To what do we owe the house call?"

"I ran into Sawyer, and thought I'd drop by and see how that leg of yours is doing," Jack gestured at the brace, then gave her a funny look. "How did you manage to get him to go him shopping?"

"A very admirable accomplishment, I'm sure," she laughed.

"You have no idea," Jack kneeled by the chair next to her to examine her leg. "Does this hurt?" he tapped the brace in few places, but Kate shook her head. "Good, and it hasn't been bothering you?"

"Not really," she shrugged. "It's annoying, but otherwise fine."

"Then I think it'll be ready to come off in another two weeks," Jack got up and nodded thoughtfully.

"Really?" her eyes lit up. "That's great! Hear that?" she turned to Sawyer, who was still standing in the kitchen. "You'll have the whole place to yourself again soon."

"Then why did I bother buyin' a whole damn box of the damn tampons?" he demanded, taking them out and tossing the box on the counter. Kate ignored him, slowly getting up and making her way to the counter. She pulled one of the bags closer and began spreading the groceries on the table.

"Next time I'm making a list," she muttered under her breath.

"Don't even think about it, little girl," Sawyer warned her. "No way am I walking around there with a shopping list. You want something more specific, hobble over and get it yourself."

"Is he always this polite?" Kate looked past Sawyer at Jack.

"No," Jack replied, getting up, "sometimes he's rude."

"If you two are done," Sawyer glared at both, "and if you," he looked at Kate, "can get this stuff if the fridge, Jack and I are gonna get out for a little while."

"We are?" the doctor was confused. "What are you up to, Sawyer?"

The blond man only grinned, disappearing into Kate's room. He emerged a second later, and tossed something to Jack, who caught it with ease and stared down at the basketball in his hands.

"We're playing basketball?" he asked. "Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack," Sawyer grinned. "You need to get out more often, Doc. Think that hospital's gettin' to you."

"I haven't played in years," Jack protested, but it was clear he was tempted.

"All the more reason," Sawyer told him. "Come on, I promise not to beat you by much."

* * *

"Nine to six!" Sawyer declared triumphantly. He dropped on the curb next to Jack, wiping the sweat off his face with his shirt. "You gotta get out into the wild a little more often, Doc. You are out of shape."

"Shut up," Jack would have growled, but he couldn't catch his breath.

They'd been playing for a little under two hours on the old court behind Sawyer's apartment building. It wasn't the fanciest of locations; graphite could be seen everywhere, both hoops were rusted, and one was missing a net, but Sawyer felt more alive on the court than anywhere else. It was his element, a place he could set his inner beast free. Adrenaline high was the only way to go.

"So," Sawyer leaned back resting his hands on the ground behind him, "how's Chris?"

The smile on Jack's face immediately disappeared. He pressed his lips together, took a deep breath, and finally shook his head. "He's not okay," he whispered. "Not even close."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** Dedicated to Amanda, because behind every insane writer, there's a beta keeping them in check. This chapter would not have been on time without her. Thanks for everything, girl! **Episode Connections:** 12) Whatever the Case May Be and 16) Outlaws.

**Chapter 11**

Kate absently tapped the ball point pen against her brace as her eyes scanned over the scrap of paper on the coffee table. _Only one more day_, she mused to herself. Jack would stop by around noon of the next day during his lunch break to take off her brace, and she'd be free to go. The anticipation was almost overwhelming. Kate had never been very good at staying put for long, and the brace felt more like a prison than the apartment. She was theoretically free to go as she pleased from Sawyer's home, but the brace was a different kind of constraint, one she was itching to be rid of.

Looking back at the paper, she mentally went over everything she needed. All of her possessions from the duffel bag, of course, but she'd have to buy a few other essentials later. She wanted a map, preferably one with highways and train stations. Twirling a lock of her still-blond hair around her finger, Kate flicked it away in disgust, and picked up her pen again. She wanted hair dye, chestnut or mahogany, something close to her natural color. The blond look was getting on her nerves, and Kate was sure that by now the authorities figured out that she dyed her hair on the way to Boston. Better change it back just in case.

She reached for the duffel bag that was tossed on the other side of the couch and pulled out the stack of fake IDs. Tugging off the rubber band, Kate began shifting through the cards, deciding which to use next. Joan Hart and Annie wouldn't work. She'd used both names in Boston, and it would be too easy for any cop to ask around and figure out that both names belonged to the same woman. She looked at the ID in her hand. Maggie. This one would do, Kate decided. At the very least it would get her a train ticket.

There was a phone on the other side of the room, and after a minute of searching through the pile of magazines, she found a thick Yellow Pages. Flipping through the travel section, Kate quickly came upon the number for the local Amtrak station. _Perfect_, she thought, getting up and clumsily heading for the phone. _Easy getaway_.

"Planin' on ordering a pizza?" came Sawyer's southern drawl from the doorway, and Kate nearly dropped the phone in surprise. How could she be so careless as to let him sneak up on her? What if that was a cop?

Sawyer, meanwhile, lazily meandered to the couch and plopped down in the spot that Kate previously occupied as if he didn't have a care in the world, but his intense gaze. Kate opened her moth to speak, but nothing came out. Sawyer raised an eyebrow at her, as if daring her to come up with another lie, and Kate was more than a little surprised that she couldn't. Sawyer took her prolonged silence to mean that he wasn't going to get an answer yet again, whether true or not. She was almost relieved, until she saw the IDs scattered on the coffee table. There wasn't a chance in hell that Sawyer didn't notice them. Just as the thought came to her, he leaned forward and picked up the card closest to him, scanning over it with seemingly minimal interest.

"Gotta say, Freckles," he traced the pad of his thumb over the photo. "Brunette's a much better look for you."

Kate didn't reply again. What did he want from her? "Please, put those back," she finally asked in a quiet voice. "I'll only be here for another twenty-four hours at most. Can't you just... leave things alone?"

"That's right," he snapped his fingers as if it had only just occurred to him that she was leaving. "You are free to go tomorrow. So where are you planin' on headin', sweetheart?"

"None of your business," Kate replied sharply.

"Sure?" Sawyer asked. " 'Cause from where I'm sitting, I put you up for almost a month for free, kept everythin' low profile. The least you can do is satisfy my curiosity."

He cocked his head to the side, gaze softening somewhat, but Kate saw none of it. In the four weeks that she stayed with him, he never once asked any questions. It was like an unspoken agreement of sorts between them; she didn't ask about his letter, and he didn't bring up her multiple identities or the Marshal that was looking for her that fateful night at the bar. Sawyer had broken that agreement, and she was furious.

"See what I wanna know," he got up and began to pace the length of the living room, one hand in his jeans pocket, "is why would a girl need not one, but a stack of fake IDs. Only need one for drinks. And hell, I know some folks are sticklers for that sorta thing, but I never knew they sent U.S. Marshals to bust underage drinkers."

"Stop," her voice was dangerously low.

"Stop me," Sawyer challenged, giving her a hard look. "Just tell me why you're runnin'."

Kate lowered her eyes to the floor, but when she finally raised her head, Sawyer saw northing but grim determination. "You want to know the reason for all of this?" she gestured at the IDs on the table. "You want to know why I have a card with every name but my own? Maybe I don't want to remember who I am, or where I've been, or what..." she bit her lip and looked him directly in the eyes. "All of us have secrets, things we're less then proud of doing. You want to talk about sordid pasts? You go first, _Mr. Sawyer_."

Now it was her turn to overstep the boundary line, but if he was going to invade her space, she certainly wasn't about to leave his alone. His eyes grew dark and threatening, like the moment he saw the letter in her hands, but this time Kate stood her ground. She was angry enough to throw what little she knew about him right back in his face. The air in the room became charged with energy, as each challenged the other to say just one more thing. Surprisingly, Sawyer was the first to back down. He snarled in disgust, moving in swift strides towards the front door.

"To hell with this." The door slammed behind him.

* * *

The cigarette smoke clouded the air of the small crowded bar, and Sawyer inhaled the nicotine not without a measure of gratitude. It was eleven in the evening, but he had no intention of heading back home until the bar closed or he was just drunk enough to barely make it back. Sawyer dimly realized that a part of him half hoped, half feared to find Christian there, but the older man was no where in sight, so he simply ordered a shot of whiskey and saw down on one of the tall bar stools.

Sawyer didn't know what he was looking for when he arrived in the bar, but he knew he had to get away. Away from her. He didn't know when it happened, but the girl, Kate, was beginning to get to him. He couldn't even begin to describe in what way, but Sawyer knew he didn't like it. She was too much like him, too guarded, too secretive. Sometimes he would catch her with a magazine in her hands, blankly staring at the same page for far longer than it took to read it. Then she would snap out of it, look up at him, and smile, but it was not the kind of smile anyone should wear. There was too much pain and hurt behind it, and Sawyer had to wonder what was worse for her: the physical scars that she could see every times she showered or went to the bathroom, or the emotional ones that seemed to follow her everywhere else.

She was also getting a little too good at reading him, and that scared Sawyer the most. He had his fair share of dark moments when the past threatened to swallow him whole, and lately it seemed that she was always there for them. She never spoke, but the sad look she gave him said everything. Kate pitied him, and if there was one thing Sawyer could not stand it was pity. Tonight was different, though. Tonight Sawyer had pushed her enough for her to lash out at him, and for the first time he actually saw her get angry over her past.

Sawyer took a swing of his drink. If she wanted to play the denial game, that was fine by him, but she had no business bring up things that didn't concern her. His head was beginning to hurt, and Sawyer rubbed his temple in frustration. He really needed to let off some steam. From the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of the blond on the other side of the bar, who smiled in his direction, raising her martini in greeting. _What the hell?_ he thought darkly, sliding off his chair.

* * *

Somehow even in his inebriated state, Sawyer managed to get the key into the lock and push open the door to his apartment before turning back to the blond, whose name he never did catch. The lights were off as the two stumbled inside the apartment, feeling their way around the furniture. The woman began tugging at his jacket.

"What are you so afraid of?" she giggled drunkenly.

"You're the one trembling, sweetness," Sawyer chuckles, kissing her again, but even as they moved for the couch, he couldn't help but cast a glance at the bedrooms. Was Kate asleep? What did he care, anyway?

Just as he was about to focus all his attention on the woman, a sound came from the bedroom that made him lift his head again. It was subtle and almost inaudible, but Sawyer's trained ear caught it nevertheless, and he listened intently. The woman sensed his distraction, and grabbed him by the chin, jealously forcing him back to her.

"Baby, what's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," but his head was already turning back, listening for another disturbance.

The blond pulled back, annoyed with his obviously distracted state. "Just go see what it is. I'll still be here," she said seductively.

Sawyer suddenly felt his drink wearing off, and scowled down at the woman. "How 'bout another time, lady?" he suggested, pushing her to the door.

"What's the problem?" she pouted. "Your wife's probably long asleep, and it's not like I'll tell."

His what? Did she just assume that was his wife in the bedroom? "Alright, that's enough," he gave her a harder push until the blond was out in the corridor. "I'll call you sometime."

He shut the door in her face before she had a chance to object again and headed for straight for Kate's room, his stride progressively increasing. He stopped at her door and turned the knob ever so slowly, squeezing through without opening it completely. It was completely dark, save for the mixture of moonlight and lights from various signs and street lamps outside streaming through the window. He could just make out the outline of her form on the bed. She was wearing one of his shirts, Sawyer noted, inching closer. _Probably packed her things already_, he thought.

The covers were kicked to the foot of the bed, and after a second of observing her, Sawyer realized why. Kate thrashed in her sleep, her bare legs jerking as if she was fighting off an invisible enemy. Her face was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, mouth slightly agape as she muttered nonsensical words in the fit of her nightmare. Sawyer slowly lowered his weight on the bed, and reached for her shoulder to shake her awake.

"Freckles?" she flinched at his touch. "Come on, little girl. Time to snap out of it."

"No," the faint moan reached his ears. "Don't."

Sawyer pulled his hand back, confused. Was she awake? No, she hadn't opened her eyes, but her thrashing increased. He reached for her again, this time taking a firm hold of both her hands with his left, and lightly running the fingers of his right over her cheek.

"Gotta wake up now, Kate," Sawyer's voice was a lot gentler than even he anticipated. "Ain't no one here that's gonna hurt you."

"Stop!" she shouted, bolting up in bed. She wrestled her arms out of his grip and started pounding at his chest with both fists. "Don't you dare touch me, you bastard!"

She was shouting and crying, but in spite of that Sawyer could tell she was not awake. It didn't matter that he wasn't really whoever she thought she was fighting. Sawyer was content to let her continue to pour out all her anger, frustration, and hurt on him. Eventually she wore herself out, her cries dying down to small sob, then silence. Kate limply slumped against him, face resting against his chest, as a calmer sleep finally overtook her.

The barest hint of light began to creep across the rooftops outside the window, but Sawyer remained on edge of the bed, still holding her, his chin resting on top of her curls. The tears had long dried, but he could still see the streaks across her pale cheeks. Sawyer wondered what really happened to her, what caused nightmares intense enough to rival any of his own. He wondered if her monster was as evil a man his was.

The sun was quickly rising, and Sawyer decided it was time to leave. No reason to be there when she woke up. Supporting her back, as if he was putting an infant down to sleep, Sawyer gently lowered her back onto the bed and was a surprised to find that she held on to him, fisting her hand in the fabric of his shirt. He carefully pried her off, and Kate whimpered in protest, but quickly settled down again, still very much asleep. Satisfied, Sawyer got up and was quickly at the door. He knew he shouldn't turn back, and when he finally did, Sawyer regretted it because just for a moment, he wanted to stay.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Author's Note: _**Thank you again, for all your wonderful reviews. Keep 'em coming. I guess this is what you would call the last happy-go-lucky chapter, so enjoy. **Episode Connections:** 19) Deus Ex Machina

**Chapter 12**

The eggs sizzled as soon as they hit the hot pan, the clear liquid instantly turning white. Sawyer turned away for only a second, reaching for two clean plates from the dryer and setting them on the table. The light on the coffee maker at the corner of the counter was flashing, and Sawyer turned it off, pouring the steaming liquid into cups. Once upon a time they were probably white, but between Kate and Sawyer, the coffee stained the cups to a dull tan color.

Sawyer was still in the kitchen when Kate emerged. It was an ironic twist of positions, because the morning of the first day she stayed with him, it was she who was in the kitchen making breakfast. She stopped in the doorway and stared at the two plates, then up at Sawyer.

"You made breakfast," she said in disbelief.

"You're wearing my shirt," he retorted, as if that fact should have been as surprising as his place at the stove.

Kate looked down at the plaid dark and light blue shirt that was clearly way to big for her. She tugged at the bottom absently. "Yeah, I am. All my stuff needs to be washed."

"It's fine," Sawyer waved it off.

Kate rolled up the long sleeves and sat down across the counter. "So I take it this is a farewell meal?"

"Sort of," the eggs slid off the pan and onto her plate. "I got up early and felt like experimenting."

Kate raised her eyebrows and leaned over the counter, stretching to see the contents of the trashcan. There were several broken egg shells, a lot more than necessary for the eggs on their plates. There were also burnt remains of something completely unrecognizable. Kate decided she didn't want to know.

"You woke up early?" she asked, taking a sip of her coffee. "I didn't even hear you come in last night."

"Came back late," Sawyer replied, carefully omitting mention of the woman he came back with. "Thought maybe if I didn't crash for the whole night, it might save me the hangover. I was wrong," he held up his cup as evidence. "That's what the coffee's for."

"I see," Kate suddenly saw the clock. "Is that eleven thirty?"

"Yeah. Why?" he asked, but Kate was already reaching for her crutches.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" she demanded. "Jack's going to be hear in a half hour!"

"So? The man operated on you. I'm pretty sure he's seen you in much worse than _my_ old shirt."

Kate shot him a dirty look. "I'm not trying to impress your friend," she said, disgusted, "but there is such a thing called common decency. That, and I was hoping to get my laundry done before he came, so it'd be ready to go as soon as I was."

"Exactly how were you going to get your junk down to the laundry mat in the basement?" Sawyer gestured at her leg. "Relax a little, will you? You can wash your stuff after you can walk. It'll set you back, what? Two hours tops. Plus, no offense, but you might wanna shower before you hit the road again."

Kate glared at him, but she had to agree. God only knew how long it would be until she had the luxury of a hot shower again. It was also the perfect time to change her hair like she planned. "Can you do me one last favor? Can you get me some hair dye? Dark brown."

She expected a smart-ass comment, but to Sawyer only nodded and smirked. " 'bout time," he said simply. "Never thought blond was your color."

"No, it's definitely not," she agreed. "Okay I call first dibs on the bathroom. I don't care what you say; I'm not meeting Jack looking like this."

Sawyer only chuckled, and finished his coffee before loading the dishwasher. He was just about sit down and flip through the Boston Post when there was a knock on the door. He looked at the clock. Eleven forty-five. He tossed the paper away and got up to answer it.

"You're early," Sawyer complained, as Jack brushed past him, a package in his hands.

"I know," the doctor said, "but my break is only a half hour, and I need to drop by the post office before I go back. As hard as it is for you to believe, the world – more specifically my time - doesn't revolve around you."

"Jeez," Sawyer made a hissing noise, closing the door behind Jack. "What's your problem, Dr. Quinn?"

Jack sighed and placed his parcel on the counter next to the Boston Post. "I'll give you one guess."

It took Sawyer less than a minute to understand. "Chris," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'll talk to him."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Jack scoffed. "Look, I got a half hour, and I'm really busy. Where's Annie?"

"Sawyer," Kate stuck her head through the bathroom door, "do you know what happened to my toothbrush? Oh," she saw Jack. "I thought I had a few more minutes. Excuse me, I'll be right out."

"Take your time," Jack called back.

"Oh _she_ can take her time," Sawyer muttered, once again unfolding the Boston Post.

Kate was out in less than five minutes, and Jack instructed her to sit down. "I bet you're ready to get out of this thing?" he joked as he began to remove the brace.

"You have no idea," Kate agreed. "No offense."

"None taken," Jack laughed. "I'm glad to help."

"Yep, that's our Jacko. Ever the Golden Boy," Sawyer commented from behind the counter, but winced and rubbed his forehead, squinting down at the paper.

"Is it your head again?" Jack turned his head half way to the other man.

"What's wrong?" Kate asked, an ever so light look of concern on her face.

"Nothing. Doc's jus' paranoid," Sawyer scoffed, but Jack ignored him.

"He has headaches," the doctor told her. "Not too often, but I told him to get his eyes checked. I think he might need glasses, but..."

"I don't need glasses," Sawyer went into the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of Excedrin.

"...he's a stubborn git," Jack finished, and Kate actually giggled. "Okay, that just about does it."

He got up, tossing the remaining pieces of the brace on the couch. He held out his hand to help her up, but Kate stubbornly shook her head. Slowly, testing her balance, Kate got to her feet, leaning most of her weight to her left. Her right leg was a little numb, but there was no pain. Kate took a few cautious steps, and a wide grin spread across her face.

"Thank you so much," she pulled Jack into a hug. The doctor looked surprised, but smiled and hugged her back.

"You're welcome," he pulled away and patted her shoulder. "I take it you're leaving soon?"

"Yeah," Kate said. "Probably as soon as my stuff is ready."

"Well then, I guess this is good-bye then. I'd love to stay, but I need to get going. It was nice to meet you, Annie. Stay out of trouble."

He picked up the bundle. Sawyer waited for a minute before the door closed behind Jack before turning back to Kate. She looked back at him apparently not knowing what to say. It was over. Another few hours and she would be gone, and the past month would be just a passing memory. Sawyer would have never admitted it to anyone, especially himself, but he was going to miss her.

"Well," he finally said, "guess I better go get that hair junk for you. Remember where the laundry is?" Kate nodded. "I'll be back soon."

* * *

Jack looked at his watch impatiently. He should have known better than thinking that he could make it all the way to Sawyer's apartment, to the post office, and back to the hospital in a half hour. It seemed as if half the city congregated at the post office during their lunch breaks. There was a line almost to the door, and Jack was annoyed to find himself at the very back of it.

His mind wandered, as Jack scanned the walls of the post office in his boredom. Sawyer promised to talk to Christian. As far as Jack was concerned, it was as good as done. Sawyer may not have always been the pinnacle of honestly or reliability, but when he needed him, Jack knew for a fact that he could count on Sawyer for anything, especially when it came to Christian. Jack didn't know exactly why Christian listened to Sawyer, but the results were undeniable. It was a fact that when Sawyer visited, Christian tended to be in a much better mood and occupied himself with his family and friends more so than the bottle.

Still the friendship – if it could be called that – bothered Jack, and as much as he was loath to admit it, it was on a completely selfish level. Christian and Sawyer seemed to have an odd understanding of sorts in which Jack was not included. It took one hard look from Christian to shut Sawyer up, who had a tenancy to bluntly comment on anything and everything. Likewise, the southerner needed only to ask, and the older doctor would put away the alcohol. At least temporarily. Jack knew he should have been happy, but the truth was that he was jealous. Jealous that Sawyer somehow won over more of his father's respect in four years than Jack had in a lifetime, and jealous that Christian had enough of his friend's trust that Sawyer deemed him fit to share the contents of the letter.

_You're being stupid_, Jack scolded himself. He knew he should have been happy that two men as stubborn as them managed to get through to one another from time to time, yet even as he thought it, Jack couldn't help but feel that twinge of jealousy.

He checked his watch for what felt like the hundredth time, and once again looked around the post office. Greeting card stand, stamp machine, brown package paper, bubble wrap, crumpled wanted posters. Jack's eyes returned to the paper, narrowing to focus on the face. His parcel fell to the floor, completely forgotten.

* * *

Sawyer carried the shopping bag back to his apartment, all the while wondering if he picked the right color. Kate's hair had been growing over the past four weeks, darker roots already starting to show. He picked a warm brown color, not too dark or light, something he felt would suit her best. Her laundry was probably done by now. She was probably folding her cloths and packing them into navy duffel bag, the fabric still warm out of the dryer. Maybe she was standing perfectly still in the living room, taking one last look around the apartment. Maybe, but soon it wouldn't matter.

He was almost home, and Sawyer was surprised to see Jack sitting on the front steps of the building. The doctor checked his watch. He shook his head, muttering something under his breath, and looked at a crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

"Damn, Doc," Sawyer smirked, and Jack was immediately on his feet. "There's just no gettin' rid of you, is there?"

"Sawyer," Jack sighed, and meeting the other man's questioning gaze. "We need to talk?"

Sawyer blinked, and cocked his head to the side. "Are we breaking up, Jack?" he asked in a completely serious voice before grinning at the doctor.

At any other moment, Jack would have laughed right along with him, but not now. Wordlessly he unfolded the paper and held it up for Sawyer to see. The grin immediately disappeared from Sawyer's face.


	13. Chapter 13

**_Author's Note:_** I just have one thing to say... ahem... SQUEEE! I was so giddy at the skate moment yesterday! Chris and Amanda can testify to that. In fact I was so inspired that I added a scene to this chapter. Well read, enjoy, and please review. **Episode Connections:** 1.08 Confidence Man, 1.11 All the Best Cowboys have Daddy Issues, 1.23/24 Exodus, and 2.01 Man of Science, Man of Faith.

**Chapter 13**

Jack wasn't stupid. He could admit to a small measure of naivety but he was not stupid. He had been willing to trust Sawyer, bend the rules for his friend despite the Katherine suspicious circumstances. He wasn't surprised that Annie – now he knew her name to be Katherine Austin – fooled him. Jack knew his first instinct to see the good in people caused him to misjudged character, especially considering that he didn't know this Kathrine very well. But Sawyer had spent four weeks with her, and unlike Jack himself, Sawyer was always suspicious of other people's motives. How could he have not noticed?

Jack watched as his friend reached out and took the wanted poster from his hands. Sawyer looked down at it in silence, but the expression on his face was completely unreadable. One thing Sawyer didn't seem to be was surprised, something that Jack couldn't understand. _He must be too shocked_, the doctor decided

"Sawyer?" Jack peered at his friend. "Say something."

"Well," Sawyer's eyes never left the mug shot in his hands. "She does look better as a brunette. Though I gotta say whoever took this picture did a lousy job."

"Sawyer, focus! Do you realize you're harboring a wanted fugitive? You've been living with a woman who has a bounty of twenty-three grand on her head."

"Damn," Sawyer whistled, shoving the crumpled mug shot in his back pocket, "knew she was in trouble. Never knew it was worth this much."

Jack opened his mouth to respond, until Sawyer's words sank in. "What do you mean you knew she was in trouble?" Jack demanded. Sawyer didn't answer "Sawyer, I know you're not exactly the most by-the-book person, but please tell me you didn't willingly harbor a fugitive."

"Does it matter?" Sawyer shot back. "She's leavin' and neither of us is ever gonna see her again. So let it go, Jack." He started to walk past him, but Jack roughly grabbed his arm.

"Not this time," the doctor told him angrily. "This isn't just about this girl, whoever she is. I want to know what the hell is going on with you. You don't work, at least not in any legal way I know. You come in and out of the city whenever you feel like it. I don't even know what you do with yourself in the months you're gone, and it's not like you tell me anything. All I know about you is that you've got a truckload of issues."

"Look who's talkin', cowboy," Sawyer snapped. "Wanna talk about issues? You go deal with your daddy first."

He was almost expecting it when Jack's fist slammed into his face. The force caused Sawyer to stumble back, and he turned away for a second to spit out a glop of blood and saliva. His head was still pounding, but Sawyer rolled back his shoulders, facing Jack once more. The doctor looked more surprised by his own action than Sawyer was. The men stared at each other, neither knowing what to say or how to react. Finally Sawyer sniffed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Didn't think you had it in you," he whispered.

"I..." Jack opened his mouth, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm sorry, but just think about it. You don't know this girl. You don't know what she did or how dangerous she could be. Do something right, for once, and let the authorities handle this. If she's innocent, good. If not..."

"I ain't listenin' to this," Oh, but it was tempting. Call the cops, collect the reward, pay off Victor, and merrily go on with his meaningless existence. So easy to give in, but images of the previous night flashed in his mind. Kate fighting him, screaming on so many levels of pain that he could almost feel it through her. And Jack was seriously asking him to turn her in? Not a chance in hell.

"Then I guess there's nothing left to talk about," Jack turned and walked away, clearly disappointed.

* * *

Sawyer's steps were heavy as he made his way up the stairs and into his apartment. His tongue ran over the split in his lip as he thought about what happened outside. He wasn't angry with Jack. He knew he provoked the punch, did it on purpose even. If Jack was pissed off with him, maybe on some level this would be easier on the doctor. _Are we breaking up, Jack? _Apparently they were.

Kate's duffel bag was still on the couch, but it was already piled with fresh-smelling clothes. The Mark Twain book was thrown on top of the pile, but Kate herself was nowhere in sight. He felt a fresh breeze on his face and looked up. The skylight in the ceiling above the living room was open, and there was a chair placed directly under it. Sawyer rolled his eyes. It was less than two hours since Jack took of her brace, and already she couldn't sit still, climbing furniture like a monkey climbed trees. Sawyer himself wasn't as adventurous.

There was a small stairway right outside his apartment that led to the roof, and when Sawyer opened the heavy metal door he saw Kate standing a few feet away. The wind combed through her curls, and for a moment he just stood behind her in silence, mesmerized by the long flowing locks. Her hands were wrapped around her body as if she was cold, but she didn't move, standing perfectly still and staring out into the city. She was wearing the same jeans and coat as the first time he'd seen her at the bar.

"I heard you downstairs, you know," she said, still not facing him. A moment later, Kate finally turned her head. "You're not very good at sneaking up on people."

"There a reason I should be?" Sawyer shoved his hands in his jeans pocket, casually walking over to her, his head cast down.

Kate sent him a smile, but it vanished as soon as she saw his face. "Oh my God! Sawyer, what happened?"

She crossed the roof to stand right next to him, tilting her head to take a getter look at the dark bruise already forming on his left cheek. Kate gently ran her fingers across it, and Sawyer winced, batting away her hand.

"I'm fine," he said. "Just got into a little trouble."

"At the store?" Kate asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, I just can't keep my mouth shut. Managed to piss off some hot chick's possessive boyfriend."

"Oh," she stepped back, falling silent. "Did you get the hair dye?"

"Right down stairs," he nodded his head at the open skylight. "Wanna head back?"

"Sure. It's getting cold up here anyway," she began towards the open glass, but Sawyer called out to her.

"Hey," he said. "How 'bout we try the stairs this time?"

"I like climbing," Kate told him matter-of-factly. "Used to do it all the time when I was a kid."

"You mean you're not anymore?" Sawyer commented as they made their ways down the stairs. Kate gave him a look, and he relented. "Kidding. So where are you headin' now. Plan on stickin' around Boston?"

He already knew she wasn't. She had, after all, been looking at Amtrak train schedules right before he left. _Probably best_, he thought. Sawyer was almost positive that since he'd told Jack she was leaving, the doctor wouldn't bother calling the cops himself, but it was always best to be safe than sorry.

"No," she opened the door to the apartment. "I was thinking of heading further south, but I'm not sure where exactly."

"So you were looking at the train schedules for fun, then?" Kate didn't even pretend to be surprised by his observation. She should have known better than to lie to him at this point.

"Okay I was thinking maybe some small town in the middle of Pennsylvania," she admitted. "Amtrak goes to Philadelphia, and from there... I don't know. I was thinking it's be nice to just get lost somewhere in the country."

"Bet it would," Sawyer picked up the abandoned bag with hair dye and handed it to her. "Here you go, sassafras. Chestnut, just like you ordered."

"Thanks," Kate said and started for the bathroom.

Sawyer watched her go, but his attention was suddenly drawn by something else. He stood still, listening intently, until he managed to filter out an ever so dull ticking sound. Stepping lightly, Sawyer followed the sound that led him to the kitchen, and around the counter. He frowned, trying to place it. It was like the ticking of a clock, or...

_A bomb!_

His eyes went wide as they fell on the three sticks of dynamite attached to a ticking timer. A timer with less than two minutes on the clock.

"Kate," he called into the bathroom. "Kate!"

"What?" she cracked open the door, still fully clothed, the unopened box of dye in her hands.

"We gotta get out of here," he grabbed her duffel bag off the couch and ran for the fire escape at the window. "Move it, little girl. Now!"

There was enough urgency in his voice to make her move without question. She ran towards him, and Sawyer held the window open just long enough for both of them to pass through before slamming it shut behind them. They quickly ran down the fire escape ladder, making it down to the ally behind the apartment building. The stench of garbage hit them, and Kate struggled to catch her breath.

Only seconds after Sawyer stepped onto the pavement, the air was shattered by a loud blast. Windows shattered, raining down glass, and Sawyer pulled Kate away from the falling shards, pressing her hard against the side of the building. Smoke billowed from the broken windows.

"Explain!" Kate demanded, pulling her hair away from her face.

"Victor," he whispered under his breath, "that bastard!" Sawyer turned to Kate, meeting her questioning gaze. "I gotta get out of Boston."

Kate stared at him, but somehow she understood. Whatever was going on with Sawyer, he was leaving, and she had to take a chance.

"Take me with you," she asked firmly.

"What?" Sawyer didn't quite believing the words that left her mouth.

"I don't care where you're going, just take me with you."

"Hell, no!" Sawyer looked at her like she was insane. "You've got enough problems without getting mixed up in mine. I'm driving you to the train station and then we're going our separate ways. End of story."

He began to get up, but she pulled at his sleeve, and Sawyer looked back down at her despite his better judgment. Her green eyes were wide with fear and desperation.

"Please," she begged. "Look, when I read that letter, I thought... I thought you were one of the lowest people I've ever met, but I was wrong. Sawyer, I've been watching you for the last four weeks, and whatever that letter means, whoever you were before, it doesn't matter. If you want to prove that you're not that man anymore, not the man from the letter, than help me. Take me with you."

Her words struck him in a way Kate couldn't even imagine. How could she, when she didn't know the history of that letter? Why it was written, and who really wrote it. She couldn't understand that he could never stop being Sawyer, but her words gave him something he hadn't had in a long time: hope. False hope, though it was, it was still hope.

"Alright," Sawyer finally decided. Sirens of police cars were already heard from several blocks away. "Cops'll be here any minute. Circle around the building and get in the car. I gotta make one last stop, and then we're outta here."

"Last stop?" Kate followed him to the car. "Where?"

"You'll see. Now go."


	14. Chapter 14

**_Author's Note:_** The real Author's Note is actually at the end of this chapter, because I want you guys to read it before I make any comments. **Episode Connections:** 1.05 White Rabbit, 1.23 Exodus Pt. 1, and 2.01 Man of Science, Man of Faith.

**Chapter 14**

They had been driving for less than two hours before they passed through the city and into the nearby suburbs. The city lights began to fade behind them, and Kate remained confused about their destination. If they were still planning to take the train out of Boston, they passed the station twenty minutes ago. Then again Sawyer did have a car, so she didn't know what the new plan was. Sawyer drove in silence, and Kate turned her head to see his stoic expression. _He's just lost everything, _she thought. _How can he not be more upset?_ But she didn't address him, still somewhat shaken by the explosion at the apartment.

The neighborhood they entered was clearly very wealthy. Kate kept looking out the window in awe of the nearly mansion-sized houses, all with perfectly trimmed grass and brick laid walkways. She wondered who Sawyer knew that could afford to live like that. Maybe they were going to see Jack, but that seemed unlikely. Though Jack was a doctor, Kate knew there was no way he could have earned this kind of money so early in his career.

Sawyer slowed the car when they reached a particularly large house, and parked on the curb, despite the ample space on the driveway. He got out and slammed the door shut. The engine was still running as he circled around the front. Sawyer came to her side and tapped on the window.

"Stay here," he told her as she rolled down the window. "I'll be back soon." His eyes fell on the on the keys in the ignition, and Sawyer paused, then reached across the seat and over her lap to pull them out. "You don't need these."

Kate watched him cross the lawn and head for the house, but instead of going towards the front door, Sawyer rounded a corner, effortlessly hopping over the two foot high fence that divided the front yard from the back. He disappeared behind the house seconds later.

* * *

One day when he retired and moved a little further away from the city, Christian promised himself that he would have a bigger library, one that was not only filled with medical books and research papers, but also literature, history, maybe even philosophy. There would be mahogany shelves covering all four walls, and the portfolios with copies of patients' medical records would be collecting dust somewhere in the closet.

As it was now, his study was only a dim comparison to what Christian hoped his future library would look like, but nevertheless he was quite content to sit in his large armchair, absently swirling the brandy in his glass. The large glass door on the far side of the study led to the pool in the back yard, and Christian watched as the wind from the small crack played with the curtains, casting patterns of shadow on the floor. He sighed and got up, walking over to the liquor tray on the table to pour himself another drink.

"You want to come in?" he asked, his back still turned to the door.

There was a moment of hesitation, then Sawyer stepped forward. He stood still, waiting for Christian to say something else, but didn't come closer, keeping his face partially in the shadows of the curtains. Christian finished pouring his drink then turned to his guest.

"So you want to tell me what happened?" his cool eyes ran over the bruise on Sawyer's face.

"What this?" the younger man scoffed, touching his cheek. "It's nothing."

"No," Christian said patiently. "It's not nothing, but I already know what happened there. Jack told me. Did you two seriously fight over a girl?"

Sawyer cast his eyes to the floor. When put he put it that way, it did sound rather pathetic. Sawyer wondered how much Jack had told his father. He was pretty sure the younger doctor hadn't gone to the authorities, but it wasn't out of the question that he had told Christian exactly what happened, including finding Kate's wanted poster in the post office.

"It's complicated," Sawyer finally said. "I'm in trouble, Chris,"

"I can barely contain my surprise," the doctor replied dryly.

"I'm in real trouble this time," he repeated. "I gotta leave Boston, and I'm not sure when, or if, I'll ever be back."

Christian's expression sobered at his words. He gave Sawyer a hard look. "I'm not happy with the way you handle your problems," he admitted. "Not with Jack, not with whatever this new problem you have. Running away is not the answer."

"Ain't got a choice," Sawyer whispered. He didn't want to tell Christian that there was a gang that wanted him dead because he didn't pay off his debt. Telling anyone else, even Jack, wouldn't have bothered him that much, but with Christian, he felt almost ashamed. Luckily, the doctor didn't push further, understanding that whatever trouble Sawyer was in, he wouldn't talk about it or ask for his help.

"I see," Christian nodded solemnly. "And this girl... Kate, right? Is she going with you?"

"Yeah," Sawyer considered lying, but it would have been pointless. "She's comin' with me."

"Glad to hear it," for some reason, Christian seemed satisfied. "See, Sawyer, this is why the Red Sox will never win the damn series. Someone has to be the odd guy out. Someone has to suffer. Looks like you and this girl of yours are two of the unlucky ones, but maybe... somehow you're stronger together."

Sawyer wanted to say something, but the words were lodged in his throat. The sense of guilt, shame, and disappointment seemed to hang in the air, like the ghost of the small boy who used to be punished in that very room. _Was this how Jack had felt?_ Sawyer lifted his eyes to meet Christian's, almost afraid of the look he expected to see, but what was really there scared him more than he imagined. It was pride. He to look away, cursing his inability to say goodbye. He'd never been around long enough to learn how.

"I think the Sox might have a good season this year, Chris," Sawyer said thickly.

He was just about to slide open the glass door when Christian's voice reached him again. "What will you do? When you find him. What will you do?"

"When I find _him_?" Sawyer turned his head half way and answered without hesitation. "I'll kill him."

"I know you," Christian's voice was heavy with concern, something Sawyer hadn't heard in years. "I know you, and I know you're not a killer. You're in pain, suffering. I get it, I really do. But killing him won't ease your suffering. If anything, it'll only drive it deeper into you. I do know what I'm talking about."

"Yeah?" Sawyer turned on his heel, his voice rising.

"Yeah," Christian took several brisk steps forward, invading Sawyer's personal space, and the younger man actually backed down. "I may not know exactly what you went through, but I know what it's like to be responsible for someone's death. It is not something you want on your shoulders."

"How 'bout having your own death on your shoulders, Chris?" Sawyer challenged. "How 'bout being responsible for Jack losing his father?"

"You think I don't love my son?" Christian asked in disbelief.

"Oh I know you love 'im," Sawyer gestured at the half empty glass of brandy in his hand. "But I can't say I don't wonder if you love that more."

Christian did not like having his authority challenged, and Sawyer knew it. No man liked having a mirror held up to his face that reflected his worst faults, and between the two of them, Sawyer and Christian were each other's mirrors. The past and the future. No matter how hard one pushed, the other always pushed back, but in what direction, neither could tell. Sawyer was ready to walk out and dismiss the conversation entirely, but Christian spoke again.

"You know I met this man at a bar a while ago. We shared a few drinks, laughed over the game, and then started talking about this and that. He asked me if I had any kids, and I thought about it and told him I had two boys: Jack and James."

"Did he say you had no imagination when it comes to names?" Sawyer asked flatly.

"I told him," Christian continued, "that Jack, my oldest, has a good head on his shoulders. He's a doctor, like his old man. He always tries to do the right thing. Makes me proud. And even if I don't always have the guts to tell him, I do love him. I don't have to worry about Jack, because I know in the long run he'll be okay. But James, my youngest... James gets into trouble, does stupid ass things sometimes. But that doesn't mean I love him any less. Good luck, Sawyer."

It took all of his will power not to turn back. Sawyer's hand tightened on the door handle. "See you in another life, Chris," he whispered before walking out of the study, and somehow, Sawyer felt that he really would never see Christian again in this lifetime.

The old doctor watched him go with a heavy heart and raised the glass of brandy to his lips but then stopped. He looked down at the liquor and sighed, then placed it back on the table in disgust. He didn't have time to contemplate Sawyer's words further, before the door to his study was pushed open.

"Dad? We're waiting for you downstairs," Jack frowned when his father didn't respond. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Christian confirmed, glancing sideways at the brandy. "I'm fine. You just missed Sawyer."

"Oh?" Jack scowled. "Did he come to tell you his side of the story?"

"He's leaving," Christian said matter-of-factly. "He came to say goodbye."

There was a pause, and if Christian knew his son, Jack was probably too surprised to respond. Despite the recent rift in the friendship, Jack had not expected Sawyer to say goodbye to Christian but not to him. The fact that Sawyer left at all without attempting a resolution hurt Jack.

"Good riddance," he muttered.

"Really?" Christian turned to him, raising an inquisitive brow at his son. "You're glad he's leaving?"

"After the kind of man he proved himself to be today?" Jack said bitterly. "Yes."

"You don't know him," his father pointed out. "Not nearly as well as you think."

"What's to know? He doesn't care about anyone who doesn't fit into his plans, whatever they are. He thinks he has the right to do whatever he wants with no regard for any rules."

"That's true," Christian agreed thoughtfully. "But do you also know, for instance, that he's masochistic? That even though he's been through more than anyone should have to endure, he hates himself to the point where he's completely blinded by the hatred? Do you know how much your friendship means to him, even though he feels he doesn't deserve it? Do you know Sawyer's not his real name?"

Both father and son looked at one another intensely, then Jack's eyes fell on the remainder of brandy in the glass on the table next to Christian. He closed his eyes as a look of pain washed over his face. _Not today_, he thought. _Sawyer already left because of me. Chances are if I stay, I'll say something that'll make Dad pick up that drink. Better if I just go._

"Sorry," he apologized quietly. "I'll leave you alone."

"Wait," his father called after him, and Jack stopped. Christian walked towards him, placing a hand on Jack's shoulder. "I already lost one son tonight. I'll be damned if I lose another."

The door to the study closed behind them, leaving the forgotten glass of brandy on the table.

**_Author's End Note:_** Where to start? Okay well let's start with the fact Jack does not live with his mommy and daddy at the age of 33-34. He's there to talk to Christian about Sawyer. Second, I want to say that this chapter means the most to me out of everything I've written in Black Halos so far. A lot of the dialog between Christian and Sawyer and even Christian and Jack for this part came to me about a month ago, when I just started writing this fic, and I've gone through it with a fine toothed comb since then. It means a lot to me because as Sawyer and Kate leave Boston, I'm leaving behind characters who I've come to love. From here the attention will really shift to Sawyer and Kate's growing relationship, though the issue of Sawyer and Jack's broken friendship will eventually be resolved.

I want to once again extend special thanks to Amanda, without whom this chapter (and story in general) couldn't be what it is, and to Chris, who had to put up with my obsession over this chapter for the past few days first hand. Thank you so much, guys. And of course, thank you for all those who reviewed. I'm can't begin to express my gratitude.


	15. Chapter 15

**_Author's Note: _**As usual, thanks to all who reviewed for chapter 14. I had to go home last weekend and took the Amtrak from Washington D.C. to Philly and then the Greyhound back to D.C. so I had a bit of time to get some idea of what I'm writing in this chapter. Other stuff, like the station in Boston, is from research, but either way I'll try to keep everything as authentic as possible. No episode connections in this chapter, but do enjoy and please review.

**Chapter 15**

Sawyer sat back in the car and for a moment, he just held on to the wheel, his gaze empty. He blinked when he felt Kate looking at him and turned his head just in time to catch her curious yet sympathetic gaze. He didn't need her pity, especially since she couldn't understand why it was so hard for him to leave. Kate didn't know that he'd lost Jack's trust because he chose to protect her secrets. She didn't know how much he was leaving behind. He could have turned her in and used the money to settle his debt. The Marshal's card, as well as her mug shot, were practically burning a hole in his back pocket, but he didn't reach for them.

"Are you alright?" Kate finally asked quietly.

"Peachy," his voice seeped with sarcasm, as he roughly jerked the gear to drive. Sawyer spun the wheel, forcing the car into a U turn on the narrow street. He drove back in the direction they arrived from for fifteen minutes, before Kate had to voice her confusion.

"I thought we were leaving," she asked. "Why are we driving back to the city?"

"So you can ask stupid questions, kid," Sawyer barked back, and Kate glared at him.

"Pull over," she demanded angrily.

"What?" he sounded more annoyed than angry.

"Pull over!"

Sawyer growled, but did as she asked and stopped the car on the curb of the road. He didn't park, simply kept his foot on the brake peddle, and faced Kate with a scowl, but the expression on her face beat his. Sawyer didn't think he'd ever seen her so angry in the past four weeks.

"I'm only saying this one more time," her tone was even but there was a coldness to it that forced him to listen. "I'm not a child, not the liability you feel you have to baby-sit. I'm a twenty-year-old woman, and I've been doing this since I was sixteen. I could probably teach you a thing or two, so how about a little respect?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am," the corner of his mouth twitched, but Sawyer finally grinned, resisting the urge to pat her head like a dog that just accomplished the last step in its training. "So, if you're such an expert, tell me what's the first thing you do when there's a pissed off mob boss and a U.S. Marshal after you?"

"That's why we're leaving," Kate missed his point.

"In this?" Sawyer slapped the dashboard. "Not sure if you realize it, sweetheart, but those friends of mine that torched the apartment know exactly what kind of car I drive, if not the license plate number. How much do you wanna bet when that Marshal comes around, they'll tell 'im exactly what he wants to know and hope he overlooks their less than squeaky clean records?"

He waited for her to comment, but for once Kate didn't say anything. They both knew that he was right and keeping the car was not an option. Wordlessly, Sawyer shifted the gear back to drive and pushed down on the accelerator, leaving the wealthy neighborhood behind.

* * *

It was well past six, and the sun was already beginning to fall to the horizon when they made it back into the city. They drove past the business district, whose tall glass skyscrapers were already alight in anticipation for the coming night, and past Sawyer's old building. Kate ducked her head when she saw the flashing lights of several police cars and fire trucks. Apparently the investigation into the explosion was well underway.

The area was becoming increasingly more dirty and clearly very poor. The buildings were smaller, some rundown, with boarded doors and windows, others decorated with crude graffiti. There were very few people on the street, and suddenly Kate was very grateful for Sawyer's company. If she were alone, the police would be the last thing she'd have to worry about. Eventually the monotonous string of row houses turned into small shops and fast food places. Kate spotted the garage of what looked like a repair shop on the corner on the street, and before she could ask, Sawyer veered left and drove around the garage to park in the back.

"Grab all your stuff," he grabbed the keys and got out. Kate reached for her duffel bag on the back seat and followed Sawyer, who was already walking towards the repair shop. He knocked on the metal garage door. "Yo! Anyone in there?"

After a moment the clank of gears grinding against each other was heard, and the garage door was pulled open just enough to reveal a heavy-set man. He was at least a full head shorter than Sawyer, with jet-black hair that was already thinning. His work apron was stained with oil.

"What do ya want?" the man looked at Sawyer suspiciously.

"I want you to tell me how much I'd get for that little beauty over there," Sawyer jerked a thumb at his car.

The man's look changed from that of mild annoyance to curiosity. He walked over to the car, deliberately passing close to Kate. Circling around the vehicle twice, the man nodded occasionally, muttering something to himself. He seemed pleased enough and turned back to Sawyer.

"It ain't marked, is it?" he asked. " 'Cause I don't want any trouble."

"Nah, it's clean," the southerner lied. "So how much do I get?"

"Eight grand," the man said after a moment's thought.

"Eight? That's a rip off!"

"Okay, nine, but only because I think your girlfriend over there is hot," he eyed Kate with a lustful gaze. "Throw her in, and I might be generous enough to bump it up to ten."

Kate looked horrified and disgusted, instinctively taking a step closer to Sawyer, but he didn't look too worried. "You're not her type," he told him. "Nine will be fine, so go get it. I'm in a hurry."

The man looked disappointed but disappeared back inside the garage. He appeared a few minutes later with a backpack and tossed it to Sawyer. The southerner opened it and reached inside, pulling out a stack of hundred dollar bills. He went through the contents of the backpack, and the repair man was beginning to look nervous.

"It's all there," he said, but Sawyer didn't respond until he finished counting the money.

"Never had a doubt," he said zipping the backpack back up and swung it over his shoulder. "Pleasure doin' business with you."

Leaving the car behind, Sawyer walked back to the front of the repair shop, closely followed by Kate. They stood on the corner without speaking, until Sawyer finally turned to her.

"You were lookin' at train schedules earlier," he asked. "Anythin' tonight?"

"It's almost six," she looked at her watch. "So we missed the six ten one, but there's another one at eight fifteen. It goes down to New York then Philadelphia, Baltimore, and D.C.. South Station is not too far from here, so I think we can make it."

"New York?" Sawyer repeated. "Good enough."

He started walking, but Kate caught his hand. "Are you insane?" she objected. "New York has one of the best police departments in the country!"

"Its a huge city," Sawyer assured her. "Trust me, puddin', they've got bigger things to worry about than little ol' you."

"Don't be so sure," Kate muttered, but he didn't hear her.

* * *

Boston's South Station was the largest train station in the city and its surroundings. Considering that Boston was one of the oldest cities in the country, the station was quite modern. Sawyer wished they'd had time to order the train tickets on line and just pick them up from the ticket kiosks where there was no need to present IDs, but it was too late for that. Kate, meanwhile, looked around in nervous anticipation, glancing at the guards standing at several entrances. It was almost eight, and most of them were not paying attention to the passengers, choosing to instead talk amongst themselves, but it didn't make her feel any better. Kate didn't think she would be calm until they were both resting on the train.

"Okay, we got twenty minutes," Sawyer looked up at the giant clock on the wall then shifted his eyes back to Kate. "Give me one of those IDs of yours."

"What for?" she asked, but Kate was already pulling it out of her bag.

"They ask for this crap to get the tickets," he said, pocketing the card. "Figured it'd be better if I picked up both of them."

Kate smile; it was an almost sweet gesture, or at least it could be seen that way considering who it was coming from. He could have just as easily dismissed the danger, but he hadn't. Still as she learned, Sawyer didn't easily admit concern, so she decided to let him get away with the pretense.

"That's fine," she said. "I have to run to the bathroom anyway. Meet you back here?"

"Yeah," he nodded and headed for the check-in counter. It was headed by a woman in her mid fifties with large glasses resting on her nose. Sawyer observed her from his place in line as she greeted each customer with a pleasant smile. Finally it was his turn, and Sawyer approached with Kate's ID, his wallet, and a sweet-as-pie grin ready.

"Well, where you off to this time of night, young man?" she asked with fake suspicion.

"New York City, Penn Station," he replied, placing a credit card and Kate's ID as well as his own on the counter. "I need two tickets for the eight fifteen train."

"I'm sorry, sir," she picked up both IDs, "but I can't sell you the second ticket without the other party present."

"Damn," Sawyer sounded disappointed and looked around as if another option would come from somewhere in the station. He turned back to the woman and lowered his voice. "Any chance at all you bendin' the rules just this once? My girlfriend had to run to the bathroom. Said somethin' about cramps, and I promised I'd pick up the tickets."

"Sir, I..." the woman looked sympathetic, but Sawyer could see she wasn't quite ready to relent.

"I understand it ain't exactly orthodox, but I'd really appreciate this favor," he said. "See, she's goin' home from the University of Massachusetts in Boston. Her folks are expectin' her tonight, and, well, they don't exactly know about me, but I wanna make a good first impression. She's a real nice girl, and I'd hate to lose her."

That did the trick. The woman, who looked like she lived on romantic comedies, grinned at the thought that she could be an accomplice to Sawyer's fictitious love story. She pulled both IDs closer so she could read the names and entered them into the computer. Within a minute, the tickets were in Sawyer's hands.

"Much obliged," he flashed her a dimpled smile and went back to where Kate was waiting for him. Sawyer looked down at the ID she'd given him, realizing not without a hint of amusement that it was labeled Ohio, not New York, but the ticket lady hadn't noticed, so he wasn't complaining.

"Here you go, Freckles," he handed her the ticket.

"Attention all passengers," the automated voice sounded from the intercom. "Now boarding train one sixty-four, service to New York City. Please have your tickets ready and proceeded to gate four."

"That's us," Kate picked up her duffel bag. "We're actually going to make it."

They boarded the train with no more obstacles. Sawyer insisted on storing both of their bags under the seats, since it would not have been the smartest thing to let over nine thousand dollars in cash float around the overhead compartments. He was glad that they'd caught the last train. It was too late for any of the other passengers to bring whining children along with them, and most people settled down rather quickly, looking forward to relaxing in the five and a half hour ride.

He looked at Kate who was making herself comfortable at the window seat, wondering how much actual rest she had in the last forty-eight hours. The day had been stressful to say the least and the previous night hadn't treated her much better. She shifted in the seat, anxious for the train to leave.

"Wanna try 'n' get some sleep?" he suggested, sitting down next to her. "We've had ourselves an excitin' day, and this thing won't reach New York till at least one thirty."

"No, I'll be okay," but she was already yawning, trying to hide it with the back of her hand.

Sawyer just smirked and rolled his eyes. Did she contradict him just for the sake of arguing? No, he knew better by now. She was stubborn, something that they had in common. Despite her objection, he soon felt her head fall to his shoulder, curls brushing across his jaw. Kate's eyes were closed, her breathing evened. She'd be asleep pretty soon, and Sawyer would have the whole ride to figure out their next movie. Instinctively he reached into his pocket and almost sighed in relief as his hands closed around the letter. It was safe. Good.

"Sawyer," Kate asked, yawning again, but her eyes didn't open. "You never did tell me who you went to see."

He remained silent for a moment. "It's not important," he finally said. Sawyer had expected her to protest, but when he looked down, Kate was fast asleep on his shoulder.


	16. Chapter 16

**_Author's Note:_** Chapter 17 will probably be late next week, if I make it at all. My beta reader and good friend, Amanda, is coming over plus I have two papers due. Sorry about that, but some stuff in the next chapter was actually inspired by fashion and pictures I saw of Evie and Josh off camera. le gasp Did Bella just admit to paying attention to clothes? Shut up, Chris. I can just see you smirking when you read this. I'll post the Evie pictures for you in the next chapter so don't complain. As for the rest of us, there will be a picture of Josh at the bottom of this post from his earlier modeling days that inspired a look of Sawyer's at the end of the chapter. For those of you on you will be able to see these pictures on lost-forum and the Black Halos thread. I also go by Silver Spider there. No episode connections here, guys, at least no intentional ones on my part. Enjoy.

**Chapter 16**

Kate was more than a little surprised to open her eyes to the artificial light of the train cart. It was so dark outside the small window that she couldn't tell where they were. The only indication of motion came from the hum of the engine and the clacking of the wheels against the tracks. It took Kate a moment to fully wake up and identify her surroundings. She stretched her knotted muscles and rolled her head back and forth several times to alleviate the stiffness that came from sleeping in the train seat.

The events of the past twenty-four hours slowly floated back to her. Just a little while ago she was getting ready to leave Boston on her own, but that was before the attack, before she had impulsively asked Sawyer to travel with him. She didn't even know what possessed her to ask, but she was glad she was no longer going alone. Somehow over the four weeks that she'd spent with him, Kate had become too used to his company, abrasive as he was.

Speaking of Sawyer... Kate straightened and looked down at the empty seat next to her. Instantly her mind went into alarm, but she calmed when she saw the backpack under his seat. Comforted, she settled back down, somewhat unnerved by her reaction to his absence. When had she become so dependent on him? _Probably not a good thing_, she thought sadly. _No point in getting attached_. But she had to admit that she wasn't ready to let him go. Not yet.

"Have a nice nap?" she looked up at Sawyer who stood in the aisle.

"I can't complain," she admitted. "What about you? Did you sleep at all?"

"I'll sleep in New York," he said sitting back down.

"Sawyer, you didn't sleep last night," he opened his mouth but she cut him off. "And don't tell me you did, because I don't believe you."

"Freckles, you worry too much," he laughed. "Look, I promise as soon as we find a hotel, I'll kick off my shoes and sleep like a baby. We should be there soon, anyway."

"Do you have connections?" she asked, and immediately winced at the phrasing of her words. "I mean, is there someone in New York who you know?"

"Like those friends of mine in Boston?" he smirked. "Yeah, pretty sure I can find someone, but I ain't exactly lookin' for another barbecued place."

"Don't you know any descent people?" Kate gave him a disgusted look.

Sawyer frowned. That was something he'd been contemplating that night at the Boston bar when he'd covered for her. "Yeah, Jack and Chris. Everyone else is long in the ground."

Kate wanted to ask who Chris was, but at that moment the conductor's voice sounded throughout the cart.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will be arriving in New York, Penn Station in approximately ten minutes. Please collect all your belongings and have a nice night."

* * *

If it was possible, Pennsylvania Station was even bigger than South Station in Boston. Even at well past one in the morning and no trains leaving the station, there was still a crowd of people stepping off trains from all over the North-East. There was even one arriving from Florida. Kate wished she had time to appreciate the beauty of the station, but once again she found herself on edge in such a public place.

Outside it was very warm, despite the late hour. Kate couldn't believe it was a week away from June. The area they entered into was mostly dark, save for the street lights and the train station itself, but in the distance, she could make out the lights of the skyscrapers. Sawyer must have spotted her interested look.

"Let me guess," he chuckled. "Country girl?"

"Yeah, kind of," she smiled down at the ground. "Small town in the middle of nowhere. My best friend and I used to run half a mile down the road to the local farm to help feed the livestock. In the winter when it got colder, we played in the barn. I loved climbing the wooden pillars and jumping down into the hay."

They stopped on the sidewalk and fell into silence, as Kate reminisced about the happier days of her childhood, her smile turning weaker and weaker. Sawyer didn't know what was going on, but after a while the situation was starting to feel uncomfortable. He cleared his throat.

"A barn and hay, huh? Sounds kinky."

Kate narrowed her eyes at him in annoyance, but she was grateful for the distraction. There was no point in dwelling on something she was never going to have again. "Anyway, it wasn't that exciting," she tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "Nothing like the Big Apple."

"I'll give you a grand tour in the morning," he promised. "Time Square, Rockefeller Plaza, you name it."

"Yeah in my dreams," Kate rolled her eyes. "There are too many people there, Sawyer. You know I can't."

"You worry too much, Freckles," he brushed her off. "I told you before; New York's probably the only place in the whole God damn world where you can get lost in the crowd. Anyway, what say we save this for the morning? There's a motel a few blocks down the street, and sleep is lookin' real good right about now."

With the backpack with the money over Sawyer's shoulder and her duffel bag over hers, they made their way two blocks north along 9th avenue. Just as she was about to ask where the place was, Kate noticed the neon flashing motel sign. It wasn't the fanciest place, but it looked clean enough, certainly better than the Boston neighborhood Sawyer was from. In the dark she could just make out the outlines of a scaffold surrounding the building next to the motel that was under construction.

Sawyer was already across the street and walking to the motel's door. He reached the front desk just as she swung the door open behind him. There didn't seem to be anyone behind the table, but Sawyer spotted a silver bell resting among the papers. Annoyed, he brought his hand down on it. Despite the loud and particularly pronounced sound of the bell, it took a full minute before a violet colored mohawked head popped up from under the counter.

"Yeah? Can I help you?" her voice was the only way Kate could tell it was a girl. Her clothes were dark and baggy, and despite the heavy pale makeup and nose ring, Kate guessed that the girl could not have been older than sixteen.

"Just need a room, kid," Sawyer grumbled, impatient with the youth's slow response. "Ain't that what the place is here for?"

"Your name?" she asked, reaching for the key board. Sawyer didn't respond, throwing his own ID on the counter in front of her. "How long are you here for?"

Sawyer glanced at Kate over his shoulder, who just shrugged. He knew she wouldn't feel comfortable in the city for to long. Chances were that they would have to move again, but not until he accomplished some things in New York.

" 'Bout a week," he told her.

"Could you be more specific?" the girl gave him a passive aggressive glare.

"Monday," Kate stepped in just in time to catch Sawyer's progressively shortening fuse. "We'll be out next Monday."

" 'Kay," she shrugged and rummaged through the drawer to pull out two spare keys. "Room number's 415 on the forth floor all the way down the hall. Oh and you gotta be outta here before twelve on Monday."

"Thank you," Kate grabbed both sets of keys, and pulled Sawyer to the stairs before he had a chance to argue.

Inside, the room smelled of smoke, reminding Sawyer that he hadn't had a cigarette in what felt like ages. Overall it was a very typical room; two large beds took up most of the space, with a drawer, television, and a few counters that supported lamps covering the rest. One had a coffee machine with a few bags of complementary coffee and sugar next to it. The bathroom door was located in the corner of the room furthest away from them. Immediately, Kate dropped her duffel bag at the foot of the bed closest to the door and went to open the single window, partially to clear the air but also to give them another exit in case they were forced to once again quickly vacate the place for whatever reason. Sawyer, meanwhile, stuffed his backpack into one of the drawers. It wasn't the safest of locations, but it was better than leaving nine thousand dollars lying around in the middle of the room. Once he was satisfied, Sawyer dropped onto the other bed.

"Want to take off your shoes?" she asked with a smile.

"No, thanks," Sawyer muttered, but his feet already worked off his sneakers. He didn't bother with the covers or his clothes, before burying his face into the pillow and falling fast asleep. Kate only shook her head, but followed his example and settled on the other bed, quickly removing her shoes and jeans and crawling under the covers.

* * *

Kate had woken up in her fair share of hotel, and every time, the feeling was the same. When her eyes first opened to stare at the stained ceiling, she had to take a minute to focus and identify the tiles that gave her a clue to her location. She was in New York, in a hotel, and Sawyer was resting soundly in the bed next to her, snoring ever so lightly in his sleep.

She slipped out of bed as quietly as she could and padded towards the bathroom. It was relatively clean, with white towels and tiny shampoo bottles arranged on the counter next to the sink. The shower had a cheap curtain that Kate didn't trust not to fall apart as soon as she touched it. Still she wanted to be clean so badly. Kate stripped of the remainder of her clothes and stepped into the shower. After a few moments of fiddling with the knobs, she managed to produce an ice-cold spray that turned moderate a few seconds later. She stepped under it with a grateful sigh and reached for the small bar of soap, still wrapped in the hotel's logo. Just as she was starting to relax and really enjoy her shower, Kate heard the door to the bathroom open.

"Mornin', Freckles," Sawyer's voice sounded happier than it had been all day yesterday. "Have a good sleep?"

"Sawyer!" she shouted over the spray of the water. "Get out of here! Can't you see I'm in the shower?"

"Nope, I don't see," he replied, turning on the sink faucet, and Kate was again hit with a cold spray. "Wish I did though. Wanna show me?"

"Do you have to be so predictable?" she told him. " I'll be done soon. Give me a few more minutes."

"Hey, you do what you want in there," she heard something that sounded like a box being opened. "Just get rid of the blond while you're at it."

Kate was confused until the contents of the hair dye kit went flying over the shower curtain to land in the tub at her feet. In the haste of the getaway, she'd almost forgotten about it, but now she distinctly remembered putting the box into her duffel bag before the explosion at the apartment. She picked up the two bottles and rubber gloves.

"You went through my stuff," but even as she complained, Kate was putting on the rubber gloves.

"If I hadn't, the Big Apple woulda had to suffer that hideous bleached hair of yours," he pointed out. "Now you just fix that, and I'll be back in a few hours."

"A few hours?" Kate repeated. "Where are you going?"

"You gotta always worry about everything?" he asked, already heading out of the bathroom. "Just be ready in two hours."

The bathroom door shut behind him, leaving Kate alone once again. She was weary of what he was up to, but the opportunity for some privacy was too good to pass up. Mixing the ingredients for the dye, she applied the color generously to her still-blonde hair and waited for the color to take hold. It was silly how much she was looking forward to looking like her old self, but Kate had really despised the blond look. _Next time I do this, I'm going red_, she promised herself. At least that wouldn't have been as drastic a change.

Once all the dye was washed off her hair and circling into the drain, Kate pulled back the curtain and reached for the fluffy white towel to dry off. Her hair left dark stains on it, but after a while Kate was sure the color was permanently set in. She wrapped a bigger towel around her body and went back to the main room where her duffel bag was tossed on her bed and after pulling out a hair brush, went back to the bathroom. _Yes, much better_, she thought satisfyingly looking in the mirror.

Back in the room, Kate picked out a clean v-neck teeshirt with blue and gray stripes and khakis, glad that she had time to do the laundry. Her hair was already beginning to dry, and she pulled it up into a pony tail, before settling down cross legged on the bed and reached for the remote. Between the Bugs Bunny cartoon and some nameless talk show there was nothing to watch, so she turned off the television and picked up "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" from her bag. She must have become too engrossed in the book because when the telephone on the night stand rang, Kate jumped, startled. She eyed it with suspicion, but decided that it was probably either Sawyer or the hotel front desk.

"Hello?" she asked slowly into the receiver.

"Well damn, you'd pick up the phone for just about anyone," she rolled her eyes at Sawyer's mocking voice on the other end.

"Where are you calling from?" Kate asked.

"Right outside, sweetheart. Come to the front entrance where we came in last night. Got somethin' for you down here." He hung up the phone before Kate could ask.


	17. Chapter 17

**_Author's Note_**: Crappiest. week. ever! But I guess I already complained about that. lets out deep breath Ok well at least we all have that beautiful Skate moment to look forward to in the next Lost episode. And for readers of this fic there will be a lot of skatey ness building over the next two chapters and in New York in general. **Episode Connections:** 1.07 The Moth and character guest star alert. Also here are the two pictures I want you to keep in mind as you read this. For those of you on please see lost-forum for a thread in the fanfiction section under the same name for the pictures.

**Chapter 17**

When Kate came outside, she wasn't sure exactly what she was looking for. Sawyer was nowhere in sight, but at least she could make out more of the street and the neighborhood in the daylight. The cars parked on the curb were the same Hondas and Toyotas as from Sawyer's neighborhood in Boston, but these were defiantly much newer models and in better shape. The street was relatively clean, and aside from the construction in the building next to the hotel, all the houses were intact and free of graffiti.

A car parked a few steps away from her honked, and Kate finally noticed the new silver Mazda. She approached it not without a measure of caution, and the passenger window rolled down for her.

"Hey, you gonna stand and stare or get in sometime today?" came Sawyer's voice from inside the car.

Her suspicions confirmed, Kate yanked open the door and slid into the passenger seat. Inside, the car also looked nice. While far from a luxury vehicle, it was several steps up from the car Sawyer left behind. But what struck her the most was not the car, but rather the driver. She almost didn't recognize him.

"Did you forget to tell me that your alter-ego is Clark Kent?" Kate's hand flew up to cover the giggles.

Even with the newly acquired slightly tanned glasses, she could see the twitch in the corner of his eye. Sawyer was dressed in a slick brown suit and looked more like he was on his way to the office than like he had spent the previous day running from thugs.

"Laugh it up, sweetcheaks," he told her. "I'll have you know the suit got us the car."

"Do I even want to know?" Kate asked, clicking the seatbelt into place.

"Let's just say the dealers are more willing to let you take if for a test drive if they think you can afford to buy it."

"You stole the car?" she translated bluntly, but Kate wasn't about to argue. "Did you at least change the license plate?"

"Do I look like an amateur?" he snapped back. " 'Course I changed the damn plate. Car's completely unregistered now."

"And the cell phone?" Kate asked, looking down at the phone strapped to his hip.

"Just in case. Which reminds me..." Sawyer picked up the phone and flipped it open, dialing a number Kate didn't see. He waited for five rings and cursed at the sound of the answering machine.

"You have reached Dr. Christian Shephard at St. Sebastian Hospital. I am not in my office at the moment. Leave your name and a brief message, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."

"Hey, it's me," he said after the beep. "Callin' to let you know I made it. Number's on the caller ID, just in case." He paused. "Give it to Jack, if you want."

Sawyer closed the phone and clipped it back to the holder on his hip. Kate, who had learned not to ask, sat back waiting for him to talk. As she expected, he didn't comment on the call, instead starting up the car.

"Hungry?" he finally turned back to her, and Kate nodded. She hadn't realized till now that neither of them had eaten anything in almost twenty-four hours since the late breakfast back in Boston. By the time they arrived in New York, both had been too exhausted to do anything but sleep. "Good. Let's go grab something, before I give you that grand tour I promised."

* * *

Kate was starting to feel like she'd walked on the set of Friends or Sex and the City. Sawyer drove past all the famous New York landmarks that she had previously only seen on postcards. Driving on the traffic-choked streets, Sawyer told her stories of his own misadventures in New York that Kate suspected were the G rated versions of the real events. 

The coffee shot was not a typical Starbucks, but rather a small privately owned, yet grossly overpriced establishment. Tables were set up outside in the fresh air, and inside it smelled of coffee and cinnamon. The girl who handed them their cups ignored Kate but smiled sweetly at Sawyer, which made Kate realize that he had been right after all; people looked at him differently because of the suit. Clearly the general public's opinion was that he was somehow important.

Outside the cafe, Kate immediately headed back to the car before Sawyer's angry voice caught up with her.

"What the hell are you doing?" he yelled. "Don't even be thinkin' about gettin' in that car with coffee."

"I'm not going to hurt it," she glared at him, but walked back to the tables outside the cafe where Sawyer already settles with his coffee and bagel. Kate sat down across from him.

"So what now?" she asked.

"Two o'clock now," he said thoughtfully.

"Are there any malls or something around here?" Sawyer gave her a look. "Right, we're in New York. Stupid question. But seriously we need to get you some clothes."

"I did," Sawyer objected, pointing at the suit.

"Two rounds?" Kate asked. "Do you know how rare it is to find a hotel with a laundry room?"

"Fine," he relented. "Upper East Side's got plenty of shops. We can head over there after this."

* * *

As soon as they entered the store, Kate grabbed a pair of sunglasses off the counter. Though she didn't see any security guards, paranoia had become second nature to her. Sawyer headed out to pick out the clothes he needed, and before she knew it, Kate was left alone amidst the hangers and the manikins. 

Her fingers traced over the glass case as Kate looked down at the jewelry on display. Most of it was extremely expensive, but some pieces were simple sterling silver. Her eyes were drawn away from it and to the wracks of clothes on her left. The first sets were casual everyday wear, but as she moved further down the isles, Kate saw that the selection became more and more formal and expensive.

Several manikins were dressed in beautiful evening attire, but one particular dress caught her attention. It was simple enough, but decorated with different shades of green from moss to emerald colors. Sleeveless and falling just bellow the knee, there was nothing particularly stunning about it. Certainly some of the other richer gowns looked like they were fit for the red carpet, but Kate couldn't take her eyes off the green dress.

To her it was everything she'd missed out on; school dances, going out with friends, graduation, prom. Not that her family could have ever afforded a dress like that, but just once Kate thought it would have been nice to dress up and. _Not worry about cops or running away_, she thought sadly. _Just pretend to be a normal human being for one day._

It occurred to her a few minutes later that she had been staring at the dress for to long and didn't even here Sawyer approach behind her until he spoke.

"What are we lookin' at?" he asked curiously, glancing between Kate and the dress. She tore her eyes away with a slight sigh and turned back to him. A second, much larger, backpack was hanging off his shoulder, while a pile of shirts and a new pair of jeans hung over his other arm.

"Nothing," she replied, looking at the stuff. "Is that all you're getting?"

"Yep. I'm a simple man. Just need the bare necessities."

"You don't considered underwear a necessity?" she raised an eyebrow. "Or did you plan on wearing one pair forever?"

"Why the sudden concern in my underwear?" he gave her a cheeky grin. "Didn't realize I had a special occasion to look forward to."

"Do you try to be a pig, or does it just come naturally?" she grimaced in disgust. "It's your money; buy whatever you want."

With that she angrily stomped out of the store. Sawyer thought for a moment, and finally decided that perhaps a pack of underwear couldn't hurt. Before he could walk away, Sawyer looked back at the dress.

* * *

They drove back to the hotel in silence, and Kate didn't wait for him to take the key out of the ignition before she got out of the car and headed upstairs to their room. Sawyer grabbed all the bags from the backseat and followed her through the lobby. He stomped past the front desk where the same clerk was talking to an African-American man in a construction worker's suit. 

When he reached the room, Kate sat cross-legged on the bed, the TV remote already in her hands. Sawyer dropped the bags on his bed and walked in front of the TV before she had a chance to turn it on.

"You gonna sit here for the rest of the day?" he folded his hands across his chest.

"Like I have something better to do?" she glared at him.

"Yeah," he reached for one of the bags and tossed it to her. "You can try this on."

Kate reached inside, her expression growing more and more suspicious as her hand closed around the fabric of an as of yet unknown article of clothes. Her eyes widened when she pulled out the green dress from the store. "Sawyer, how did you...?"

"Figured if I was all dressed up," he brushed his hands over his suit. "You might as well be too. Might hit the real fun places of this town in the evening."

"Any particular place you had in mind?" she got up and disappeared behind the bathroom door.

"Oh you know," he shrugged casually. "Probably just some hole in the wall place to get some grub. Hey you done in there?"

"Yeah," she called back. "Though I don't know if it's the way it's supposed to go. How'd you know my size, anyway?"

"I'm good like that," he retorted. "Well, don't keep me in suspense, girl. Let's see it."

Sawyer watched the door slowly open, and Kate stepped out, looking more self-conscious than he'd ever seen her before. She smoothed out the bottom of the dress, glancing between him and the floor, waiting for him to speak. Sawyer tried to say something, but nothing appropriate seemed to come to mind. She was too beautiful. Why hadn't he seen it before? Well, that wasn't exactly true. He's seen her fresh out of the shower when her hair looked like wet rat's tails. He's seen her in his old shirt after she just rolled out of bed. He'd have to be dead not to see her beauty, but for some reason it was as if it was the first time he allowed himself to admit what he saw. No, she definitely wasn't a child.

"Is it really that bad?" Kate asked shyly.

"What?" Sawyer blinked. "No, it looks... great."

"Oh," he noticed that when she blushed, her freckles became more pronounced along her cheeks the same way they did on her nose when she was angry. "Thank you."

Sawyer cleared his throat. "Wearin' sneakers with that dress, Freckles?"

Kate looked down at her shoes by the bed. Despite her absolute love for the dress, she absolutely hated heels. Kate had somewhat of a tomboy streak since she could remember. As far as she was concerned, sneakers were the ideal shoes: practical and perfect for running away if need be. But as little as she knew about fashion, Kate knew that sneakers were not appropriate.

"Does this mean another trip out?" she asked.

"Guess so," Sawyer shrugged.

"Might as well get some makeup while we're there." It seemed to be a terrible shame to let the dress go with such a plain face. At least that was what she thought.

"Hell, no," Sawyer objected. "What do you wanna look like a damn Barbie doll for?" Sawyer usually didn't mind or care that much, but the thought of her covering up all those pretty freckles was just too much for him. Damn, but she was too damn cute for her own good. Or his.


	18. Chapter 18

**_Author's Note_**: I just remembered Amanda might be a little busy so this chapter is going up unbetad. Please forgive all the spelling mistakes in advance. At least you'll all know why I need my beta reader so much. Thank you for all your patients. I had a great time in New York today (well, yesterday, I guess) and did draw some inspiration for the next chapter.

Trying something a bit different with this chapter. I'm not a fan of song-fics. I don't like having the story interrupted by lyrics, but I do understand the need to set the mood for the chapter. So for this one, I've uploaded a song called "Remember When It Rained" by the magnificent Josh Groban. There are two links with 25 downloads in each. If they run out, tell me and I'll upload it again. There's also a link to the lyrics, but they're pretty clear within the song anyway. Note that this is not the "second song" (that'll be clear once you read the chapter). This is just a song that I feel is perfect for the mood in that particular scene. So as you read it, turn on and listen the song as you read the part of the story after the "first song." Don't worry if you're confused; when the song is appropriate, you'll know. If you're reading on the links are on Lost-Forum under the Creative LOST – Fanfics – Shipper Fics – Black Halos thread. Please enjoy.

**Chapter 18**

It was past seven in the evening when they finally decided that food was again a good idea. Kate knew Sawyer had something planed but by that point she was content to just sit back and wait to see what it was. She glanced at him behind the wheel, but Sawyer gave no indication of his plans for the evening. Every time she thought she had him pegged, Sawyer managed to throw her a curve ball, first by buying the dress and now by going out. He acted like nothing mattered, not taking her with him to New York or buying the dress, but it was fairly easy for Kate to see that he was trying to cover it all up with his typical rough exterior. Well, whatever he wanted was fine with her.

When they finally pulled up to the parking lot of the restaurant, she realized that they were parking among nothing less than Lexus and Mercedes. She looked to her right and finally saw the sign on the front door.

"The Rainbow Grill Restaurant?" she looked at him in amazement. "I heard about this place. It costs a small fortune."

"Sure does," he grinned. " 'Specially the Rainbow Room. Goes way back to the nineteen thirties and gets more celebrity visitors than Beverly Hills. Oh, and it's gotta be reserved six months in advanced."

"Okay okay, I'm impressed," she put her hands up in defeat. "So how exactly are you planing to pull this one of?"

"Nope, ain't gonna happen," Sawyer got out of the car. "A master never reveals his secrets."

"That's a magician," she corrected.

"That too. Hang on a tick."

Kate didn't argue, sitting back and watching him confidently stride inside. While she waited, Kate saw as crowds of people gathered at the entrance. Rich businessman talked amongst themselves while their glamorous wives chatted away. It was obviously a place where the rich went to see and be seen. Kate, on the other hand, had no desire whatsoever to be seen or noticed at all. But her luck had been relatively good lately, so she was willing to let Sawyer treat her. After only a few minutes, he returned with a wider grin and opened the door for her.

"All set, sweetheart," he looked rather pleased with himself, even going as far as holding out his arm for her as she tentatively got out of the car, hooking her hand in the crook of his arms at the same time curious of his out of character behavior.

"What'd you do?" she asked, even though she already knew he wouldn't talk.

"Didn't I tell you not to worry?" he chastised her. "Just relax, Freckles. Pretend we're out on a date or somethin'."

"Date," she scoffed. "Somehow I doubt you date."

"Nope, not since high school," he agreed. "You'd be surprised how liberating casual sex can be."

"I'll take your word for it," Kate rolled her eyes, but kept a smile on her face as they bypassed the long line of people who were glaring daggers in their direction. Sawyer didn't seem to mind, but Kate felt a bit uncomfortable, turning her head away from the crowed to stare at the only thing there which happened to be Sawyer's upper arm. He noticed her discomfort, and through his touch Kate felt a rumble of laughter pass through him.

"Don't you pay them any mind, Freckles. They're all just jealous of our first class treatment."

As they walked past the busgirl, Kate noticed that Sawyer winked in her direction and she smiled shyly, ducking her eyes back to the list of customers. She couldn't say why, but for some reason the exchange made Kate uncomfortable.

However the feeling soon faded as the studding gold- and silver-draped ballroom unfolded before her eyes. Kate's mouth fell ever so slightly open as she gazed all around the magnificent room. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a beautiful view of the evening New York City, dazzled with lights. The single yet enormous chandelier in the center cast a dim light across the entire room, setting the perfect mood that was only enhanced by the music of the live big band orchestra. The tables were mostly set up near the windows, but what really amazed Kate was the slowly revolving dance floor in the middle of the ballroom.

She only came out of her trance when she felt Sawyer tugging on her arm, impatient to get to their table. He released her hand and moved to pull one of the chairs from under the table. Kate sat down smoothing out her dress, all the while wondering where Sawyer had learned to behave in such a dignified manner fit for high society. He sat down across the table from her, only now taking the time to look around, and Kate regarded him in wonder. She marveled at his ability to blend in so easily wherever he was. His adaptation skills were those of a true survivor, which made Kate more confident about her decision to remain with him. But the ease with which he slipped from one role to the next made Kate wonder if what she usually saw of him was not just another front.

The waiter arrived with the menu and the whine list. Sawyer took one look at it and ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon to be brought out while they looked through the menu. The formally clad waiter nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. He came out with a bucket of ice and a bottle of champaign buried inside it. There was a white towel draped across his arm which he used to pick up the bottle with and pour a few drops into the tall glass. He handed it to Sawyer, who took a sip of the champaign and nodded in approval. The waiter poured the first full glass for Kate and handed the second one to Sawyer. They ordered diner and sat back, enjoying the music of the band.

"Sawyer, this..." she finally said, gesturing around the room. "This is amazing. I don't know how you did it, but thank you."

"My pleasure," he smiled over his glass. "So... got a question for you."

"What's that?" Kate leaned her elbows on the table.

"Do you dance?" Kate looked to her right and saw all the couples on the dance floor, swaying to the music. He could not be serious.

"I haven't danced in ages," she admitted.

"I'll lead," Sawyer offered, getting up before she could protest.

"But...," Kate tried again. "It's the middle of the song."

"So?" he shrugged. "We'll get through the end of this one and dance through the rest of the next song. Come on," he held out his hand. "This is supposed to be like a date, remember? Better keep up appearances."

_Appearances,_ she thought even as she placed her hand in his. _Yeah, right. This is just an excuse for him to laugh at me later._ But even as she thought it, Kate didn't really believe that. The music was upbeat, immediately putting her in good spirits. Sawyer proved to be a good leader in the dance after all, correcting the minor mistakes in her movement either with the tug of a hand or a touch on the shoulder. Pretty soon, Kate was laughing in delight, already forgetting to worry about her heals or looking particularly graceful on the dance floor.

The lively song ended only a few minutes later, just as she was finally getting into it, and the music changed to a much slower, moodier tone. The notes floated through the air, washing away her earlier feelings of happiness. It was a beautiful song, slow and emotional with the lightest touch of romance, seemingly slowing down everything in its wake. Kate took a step closer to Sawyer, uncounciously wrapping her right arm around his neck and sliding her left around his torso. She felt Sawyer pull her even closer as his arms came around to circle her waist.

Never in her memory had she been this close to him, but as she felt the heat radiate from his body, Kate recalled something familiar about it, as if she experienced it sometime long ago in a dream. Comforted by the warmth, she leaned her head on his chest, the soft music suddenly drowned out by his rhythmic heart beat. Kate looked up to meet his clear blue gaze and once again saw the barest hint of clarity that flashed across his face once in a while during the very few times that he was off guard.

He was stronger than this. Sawyer knew that for a fact, his confidence supported by the shear number of women he'd calculatingly romanced in this very fashion. He was above being affected by the music or the touches of his dancing partner. Years of practice had taught Sawyer exactly how not to care. _Ah, but that's different, ain't it?_ asked a coy voice in his head. _There's always been somethin' in it for you, like money. What's the goal now?_

_Nothin', _his own voice shot back, but Sawyer's body was ahead of his brain. He met her green gaze as their faces drifted closer and closer together.

_What are you doing?_ Kate asked herself. _This is Sawyer. The guy who treated you like a child up until yesterday, remember? What good is all of this?_

_No good_, she agreed, but Kate could feel his warm breath on her face, and without thinking, she wet her lips. His nose brushed across hers, and Kate's eyes drifted closed as everything else fell away. There was no one but the two of them on the dance floor. For all she cared, there was no one else in the entire room. They inched closer together. Closer... closer...

The other people in the restaurant broke into applause, alerting the couple that the song had ended. As if snapped out of a trance, Sawyer pulled back from her, clearing his throat. Kate, who had also apparently regained her wits, looked down at the ground in slight embarrassment. They returned to their seats where their diner was already waiting for them, and she immediately emptied the glass of champagne to clam her nerves.

"And you told me you didn't dance," Sawyer said smugly, and Kate had to smile at that. Maybe she would try it again sometime.


	19. Chapter 19

**_Author's Note: _**So now we know Kate's story line. Luckily for me, it doesn't clash too much with Black Halos. I anticipated this story line (as many of us did) and will work with it. There will be slight differences of course. In Black Halos Wayne's abuse is more extreme towards Kate herself than it was in Lost. Also yesterday we learned that she started running at age 24, and I said it was 16 since she's only 20 now. I'll smooth out the wrinkles, I promise.

Longer chapter for you guys this time to make up for the shortness of the last one. Special Shout out to SkaterForever who kept me company (even in cyberspace) all day today and inspired a slight addition to this chapter. Enjoy and please review. **Episode References**: 1.12 Whatever the Case May Be. **Character Appearance Alert**: Rose and Bernard

**Chapter 19**

Kate never did catch exactly how he managed to pay for the tab which was well over a hundred dollars. All she saw was Sawyer hand the waiter a credit card and scribble a signature on the recite. The waiter thanked him with a nod and a "Have a good night, Mr. Brown." As they were leaving, Kate noticed a gentleman in the seat next to them franticly search through his wallet. They came back from the restaurant at well past midnight. Sawyer took over the shower while Kate sat down on her bed, rubbing her sore feet. As fun as the night had been, Kate didn't foresee repeating it anytime soon. She was eager to get back into her sneakers.

Of course the footwear was not the only reason the night was not likely to replay. They hadn't spoken a word about it, but both knew that they had gotten uncomfortably close during the dance. Sawyer was more than ready to write off the momentary lapse in judgment on his less than terribly active sex life for the past month. He'd just allowed himself to look at her as a woman, and clearly it went right to his groin. As for Kate, she knew that her guard had failed, and she'd be damned if she ever let _it_ happen again.

The noon sun found them still in their hotel room and in bed. This time Sawyer was up before Kate, and as she opened her eyes, she caught his shadow moving out the door. By the time she came out of the bathroom, Sawyer was already back, a map unfolded on the bed in front of him. It looked like a map of the North-East, though Kate could see that the map was folded over and part of Virginia was sticking out next to Maryland. He was engrossed in the map for several minutes before looking up at her. Without thinking about it, Kate tightened the sash of her robe.

"Any ideas where we're going?" she asked.

"We?" Sawyer raised an eyebrow at her. "Exactly how long were you planin' to stick around, sassafras?"

That caught Kate off guard. It wasn't like they had discussed it, but she thought that it was understood that they were traveling together until something came up. The truth was that despite last night's unexpected events at dinner, Kate felt safer with him than she had in years.

"I thought..." she started, but Sawyer's laughter cut her off.

"Aww, I was kidding, Freckles," he smiled. "What's the matter? You afraid I leave you alone?"

"No," she glared at him, but of course there was some truth to his words. Kate sat down on the bed next to him, nodding her head at the map. "So what's with that?"

"Thinkin' of heading south," he mused. "Florida maybe. Got a buddy down in Tampa who might have a job for me."

"Oh?" Kate looked curious. "What kind of job?" It occurred to her that she had no idea what Sawyer actually did for a living. He was good at scams; the car and the restaurant were more than proof of that. And the letter... she shuddered mentally, forcing the thought out of her head. Whatever this new job was, it couldn't possibly be legal.

"Don't know yet," Sawyer shrugged, "but he always has somethin'. Beats sitting here all day."

"I guess," she didn't like the idea of getting involved with something potentially criminal, but until it became a more tangible reality, Kate was willing to pretend to remain in blissful ignorance. "Speaking of sitting here all day, I'm going out for some fresh air."

She got up and rounded the corner of his bed to get to her duffel bag that was carelessly tossed on her side of the room. She pulled out a clean shirt and jeans before she realized Sawyer was staring at her. Disgusted, Kate spun on her heal and headed back into the bathroom. If there was anything she missed about Sawyer's apartment, it was the privacy it offered.

"Exactly where do you think you're gonna find fresh air in New York City?" Sawyer called through the door.

"Central Park," she shouted back, and heard him sigh and begin to fold up the map. Kate frowned and opened the door, now fully dressed. "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?" he shot back. "Goin' with you, of course. Someone's gotta keep you out of trouble."

"I thought we were past this," she glared at him. "This stage where you treat me like a five-year-old."

"Freckles," Sawyer got up, shoving his hands in his back pockets. "Soon as you showed up in Boston, you ended up in a seedy bar and almost got caught by your buddy, the U.S. Marshall. Face it, you just ain't big city savvy."

That Kate couldn't argue with. For all the years that she'd been on the run, Kate had kept to small towns and back roads. It was easier to lay low and keep out of sight. Local policemen didn't tend to be as sharp as those in large city police departments. The only reason she had taken a chance on Boston was because she was running low on cash and knew it would be easier to find a low paying job in some second-rate diner. She scoffed; Like mother, like daughter.

"Yoohoo, earth to Freckles," Sawyer waved his hand in front of her face. "We going or what?"

"Yeah," she nodded, her mind coming back to the present. "Let's go."

Sawyer frowned at her as he headed for the door. "Sure you're okay? You look... I don't know... out of it."

"I'm fine," she gave him a week smile. "Just need some fresh air, that's all."

* * *

Every little girl from some backwater town in the middle of nowhere has some preconceived ideas about New York City and its landmarks, but when she saw it, Kate was taken aback by the sheer size of Central Park. The air was relatively clean, sounds of birds distracting her from the horns of traffic, and aside from the tips of the skyscrapers, Kate could see nothing of the city over the tops of the trees.

"I didn't think it was so big," she commented.

"Yep, New York's own little island paradise," Sawyer grinned.

They began walking through the parks trails, occasionally passing other people. Mothers pushed strollers along the paved path beside them, while an elderly couple sat on a nearby bench, enjoying the afternoon sun. It was certainly not the most common of couples for their age. The man's pale face was lined with wrinkles, his silver hair uncombed. He squeezed his wife's hand, and she smiled back, her pearly white teeth contrasting drastically with her dark complexion. They looked very much in love, probably years of marriage behind them, and when the woman turned her warm brown eyes to Kate and smiled, Kate returned it graciously. The woman obviously took her and Sawyer to be a couple, but for some reason it felt different then the night at the restaurant. Somehow here in the outdoors and fresh air, it felt more natural.

Sawyer's thoughts were not on the couple. While Kate was busy looking around the park and admiring the scenery, he was watching her. There was no question that she had been stunning last night, all dressed up and looking very sophisticated, but something about the way she looked back in casual clothes and in such a natural setting made her seem even more beautiful, like something wild and exotic that couldn't be confined.

A few minutes later they passed the thicker foliage and arrived at an open area of grass fields where kids were busy playing everything from soccer to baseball, enjoying the summer day free of studies. Kate kneeled to tie her shoe, and Sawyer cast his glance out into the baseball field.

"You know Jack used to play baseball when he was a kid," He mused. "He was in some sorta little league or somethin'. Half descent player, too from what I hear. Least that's what Chris says."

"Chris?" Kate asked, curious. "You keep mentioning him."

"Oh yeah," Sawyer smiled fondly, then looked down. "Never did tell you who he is, did I? That's the guy I went to see before we left. Christian's Jack's old man and some hot shot chief of surgery and all that jazz. Hell of a doctor, not so successful in the whole parenting department. Don't get me wrong, he's a good guy. Just fouls up sometimes."

The two fell silent again, watching the kids play on the fields. Their skills were really mediocre, if one was making an honest assessment. There was little form or rules and certainly no uniforms to speak off, but the kids didn't seem to care one bit.

"Anyway, so Jack joins this baseball team. Now Chris, who's usually more concerned with Jack's grades and all that, has a soft spot for the sport. He went to every single game the kid ever played, and Jack... Jack used to tell me it was the best time in his life. Don't even know why he stopped playing."

Kate leaned her elbow on the fence, resting her chin on her hand as she listened to Sawyer reminisce. "So 'bout two or so years ago, I find myself back in Boston just when his hospital is having this charity game. Team was short a player, and Jack asks if I'd join 'em for the game. So somehow, he and Chris get me into this lame ass uniform and out on the field. Swear they musta drugged me or somethin'." He chuckled. "One of the best days of my life."

Lost in thought again, they almost didn't see the baseball wiz past them. Kate looked up into the tree to see the small ball disturb the fresh leaves and come to rest between to branches. Seconds later, the children's footsteps could be heard running toward them. Seven boys and one girl with golden hair pulled back into a braid. They ran past Kate and Sawyer and came to stop in front of the tree, longingly looking up at their lost ball.

"Way to go, Danny," the girl glared at the smallest boy in the Yankees hat. "First ball you actually hit, and it ends up in the tree."

"I didn't mean it," he whined.

"We don't even have another one," the boy to the right complained.

"I'll get it," Kate volunteered, and before Sawyer could stop her, she was up the tree, skillfully climbing all fifteen feet until she reached the branch with the resting ball. She easily dislodged it and threw it back to the ground where Sawyer picked it. He tossed it into the air and caught it again with ease.

"You want it?" he asked the kids. "Here."

Sawyer threw the ball as hard as he could across the field, and five of the six kids went running straight after it. The youngest, Danny, looked up at Kate in the tree and waved to her with a wide grin revealing the hole where his two front teeth should have been and ran after his friends.

"You could have just given it to them instead of making them chase, you know," she called down to him. "They're kids, Sawyer, not dogs."

"Yeah yeah, they're freakin' adorable," he muttered. "Now come down before you break something."

"What's the matter, Sawyer?" she laughed, already sliding down the branch. "What's with the sudden... whoa!"

Her foot slipped on a loose broken branch that that Kate hadn't noticed on her way up. She tried to hold on, but her hands were sweaty and slid along the bark that scratched her palms. She felt a sensation of vertigo and then a thud of pain as she landed on the ground.

No... not on the ground. As soon as her head stopped spinning Kate realized that she had actually landed right on top of Sawyer, knocking the man to his back. She shook her curls out of her face and looked down at him. She expected a cocky comment, but Sawyer looked just as surprised as she was. His chest rose and fell under her as he tried to catch his breath.

"Get off of me," she demanded evenly before thinking.

"Golly," Sawyer loosely wrapped his legs around her, his eyebrows wagging suggestively. "Hate to bicker about positions, sweetheart, but I think you're the one on top."

"Get off!" she shoved at him and pushed herself up as soon as he released her. Kate immediately got to her feet, her breath finally evening out as she pulled her hair back. She looked more bothered by the exchange than it was worth. Sawyer also rose, frowning at her.

"Hey," he touched her shoulder. "It wasn't that big a deal, Freckles. Least I broke your fall, yeah?"

"Yeah," she muttered looking down at her clothes. "We're both filthy."

"Well, I don't know about that, but..." Sawyer grinned but shut up when she glared at him. "Alright, alright you wanna go back? Let's go back, but I got first dibs on the shower."

* * *

She was still annoyed on the ride back and didn't exchange a single word with Sawyer on the way. She couldn't identify quite what it was today, but something about Sawyer's typical blasé behavior bothered her. It was nothing new, but his crude attitude was usually not directed at her. In the past few days, she had gotten her wish: Sawyer certainly stopped treating her like a child. But the downside was that his womanizing also turned in her direction, as minor as it was. She liked Sawyer well enough, but Kate was nowhere near ready to indulge him.

Inside the hotel room, he unceremoniously stripped off his pants and shirt and tossed them on his bed before Kate could even close the door and draw the curtains. She caught a glimpse of his white boxers before the bathroom door shut behind him and he started the shower. Tired, Kate sank down on her bed, aimlessly looking around the room. Her eyes caught sight of a white scrap of paper sticking out of his pant pocket, and out of sheer boredom, Kate reached for it to see what it was.

She should have learned by now not to read his papers. After the letter, Kate had decided that there were things about Sawyer that she just didn't want to know. Unfolding it, she saw her own face stare back at her, the black and white stripes of the height cart in the background. A card fell on the floor at her feet, and Kate didn't need to look at it to see what it read.

U.S. Marshal Edward Mars.


	20. Chapter 20

**_Author's Note: _**This chapter is kind of strange... if you can follow all the emotions involved, you're doing better than me. Special thanks to my beta reader Amanda and to Chris for helping me sort of this mess. Also special thanks to SkaterForever for putting me in the Skate Dictionary. I'm truly humbled. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter. **Episode Connections**: 1.08 Confidence Man and 1.11 All the Best Cowboys Have Daddy Issues

**Chapter 20**

Stupid. Stupid stupid little girl. She was stupid four years ago and she was stupid now. She was stupid enough to stay until it was too late before, but not this time. Not this time. Grabbing all of her clothes, she carelessly shoved them into the duffel bag. She should have been moving faster, but Kate couldn't see past the tears streaming down her face.

She should have known better, should have expected it from a man like him. Everything pointed to this, but Kate had ignored the signs for the sake of giving him a chance. Even after she read the letter, he had been kind to her, in his own way. But it was all a lie. He baited her, made her feel comfortable around him all the while planning to turn her in for the reward money. She angrily wiped away her tears, but more kept coming.

The blood pounding in her ears was so loud that she didn't hear the shower turn off. Kate just pulled the zipper of the bag closed when Sawyer came out, wearing nothing but a white hotel towel around his hips. Instantly she thought back to a month earlier the night when she first met him. Hadn't they been in the same situation then? He was also fresh out of the shower, looking exactly like he did now with his hair dripping around his head in long blond soaking strands. She remembered the look on his face. He'd been so angry with her, that she had been sure he would strike her. Wasn't that what men did when they got angry? Hit women? But he hadn't touched her. He'd shouted, absolutely furious, but he hadn't raised a hand to her. She'd wondered about that morning for the past month. Originally Kate thought that he let her stay because he felt guilty about the outburst, but now she knew better; he'd been planning to turn her in all along.

"Hey, Freckles," he started cheerfully talking to her turned back. "Any chance you can toss me my pants?"

Without looking back at him she grabbed his abandoned jeans from the bed and roughly threw them at him with enough force that Sawyer was actually caught off guard. He stumbled to catch his jeans and somehow still managed to hold on to his towel. Kate just turned back to her bag while Sawyer stared at her in complete bewilderment.

"What the hell? That time of the month again already?" all he received in response was a glare. "Damn it, girl, what's goin' on?"

"I'm leaving," she replied coolly and evenly, swinging the duffel bag over her shoulder and heading for the door. Sawyer's eyes widened in surprise before he quickly moved to intercept her. Still holding on to the towel with his left hand, he blocked the door with the right.

"Wanna tell me where the hell this is comin' from?" he demanded.

"Where's it coming from!" she exploded. "What, did you really just expect me to sit around and wait while you turned me? God, I can't believe I ever trusted you!"

She tried to shove him away from the door, but Sawyer firmly stood his ground, baffled by what was going on. Kate tried again, using all her body weight to push him away, but her 120 pounds had little effect on him. Sawyer, still very much confused but now also angry, grabbed both of her wrists with one hand and spun her away from the door. Kate tripped, falling clumsily onto the bed. She glared up at him but it came out less than menacing with the tears blocking her vision.

"Now look here," Sawyer pointedly jabbed his index finger at her. "I don't know what in hell's goin' on with you, but you're gonna sit tight right there least till I get my pants on, and then you're gonna tell me what's got you so mad all of a sudden."

"You really expect me to stay here?" she shot back.

"Yeah, I do," Sawyer told her. " 'Cause you are. Wanna turn around, sweetheart, or get a good look at exactly what's under the towel?"

Kate snorted in disgust, but turned her head anyway. Her hands clutched the sheets of the unmade bed, whole body shaking with anger. She heard his zipper go up and turned back around, ready to scream at him again, but Sawyer's attention was focused on something else. Slowly he reached across the bed and picked up the mugshot and card that Kate abandoned there. Looking down at them, his expression instantly softened as he realized what had happened. He turned back to her, some sort of explanation on the tip of his tongue, but Kate only gave him a sharp look.

"Why did you wait?" she asked in a lower voice, anger turning to exasperation. "I was with you for four weeks, and you knew I couldn't run. Why wait that long?"

"Now wait just one minute..." he started, but suddenly Sawyer felt like he didn't know what to say. There was no reason not to tell her the truth; that it had been Jack who stumbled upon her mugshot by sheer accident in the post office and urged him to turn her in. Jack wasn't here, so what did Sawyer care if she was angry with the doctor? _But you do care_, a voice inside him commented. _'Cause it ain't supposed to be like this. Jack's the good guy, and good guys ain't supposed to take the fall. It should be the bad guy, and we all know who that is._

"If it was just about the money, why not turn me in right away?" Kate interrupted his thoughts, holding up her hands as if desperate to understand. "Did you get some sort of sadistic pleasure out of making me trust you before you cashed in your reward money? Is that what happened to that family you destroyed? Tell me, Sawyer, what did you feel when you received that letter from that child?"

His head snapped back in surprise as he stared at her. How dare she bring up the letter? "You don't know anything about it," he hissed.

"You're right, I don't," Kate agreed sharply. "I don't know anything about you. One minute you're act like you don't give a damn about anything and the next you're charming your way through the most expensive restaurant in town. You know what might help? A little honesty. Just give me something real. Anything."

The demand hung in the air as the two challenging gazes met. Kate looked at him as if daring him to justify himself. It would have been so simple enough, had it been anyone but Sawyer. Anyone else would have told her the truth; that everything was just a misunderstanding, that the letter wasn't really written to him, but that was not the way Sawyer's mind worked. She wanted the truth, and he would tell her, but it would be what he believed the truth was.

"You want somethin' real, sweetheart?" he asked, yanking the letter and envelope from his back pocket and tossing it at her. "That's real, and don't you try to psychoanalyze me. What you see is what you get. Anything you'd wanna share, puddin'?"

_Any minute now_, he thought. Any minute now she'd get up, spit in his face, slam the door, and never look back. She'd be better of on her own anyway. Those thugs in Boston almost got her killed because of him. He may not have betrayed her yet, but who knew when a better deal would come along? Girl's clearly been through enough shit in her life. She didn't need him.

Sawyer waited for the sound of the springs decompressing as she got up to leave, but it never came. Kate remained sitting on the bed, the letter in her hands, but her attention wasn't on the paper but rather on the envelope. He frowned to see nothing but streaks left on her face, the tears suddenly gone. She was eerily calm as she looked back up at him, her fingers tracing over the seal. When their gazes met, Sawyer saw something in her eyes, a sense of revelation that wasn't there before, and suddenly he realized he screwed up.

"America's bicentennial, Knoxville, Tennessee," she whispered. "You were just a kid, eight maybe nine years old."

"Kate..." he shook his head, as if trying to block out the past he didn't want to face.

"This letter wasn't written to you," she said in a louder voice, getting up off the bed. "You wrote this letter."

It wasn't a question. Kate knew with absolute certainty that she was right. If the seal didn't say it than the look in Sawyer's eyes confirmed it. His brow furrowed in a mixture of anger and regret, and he turned his head to the side to look at anything but her.

"Don't you feel sorry for me," his eyes were narrow, voice low. Kate took a step forward and opened her mouth but realized that she no longer knew what to call him. She took another step closer and had to resist the urge to reach out to him.

When he crushed his lips against hers, the kiss wreaked of wrath and violence. It was forceful, rough, invading her space in a way he'd never done before. There was no emotion but fury behind it, as he traced the roof of her mouth with his tongue. He didn't want this. Didn't want her to feel sorry for him or to see him as a victim of any kind. He just wanted her to go, be so disgusted with him that she would leave just like she intended.

Except that wasn't what happened. She'd been shocked at first, ready to push him away, but as soon as her palms came in contact with his bare chest, the heat from his body seemed to calm her. Kate returned the kiss with equal passion, soothing his own anger. It was almost intoxicating. She wasn't supposed to respond to him, but it nothing seemed to be going right for him today.

As roughly as he started it, Sawyer pulled away from her. Kate had just begun to catch her breath, but his hand was already on the doorknob. "I'm not a good guy," he said, something mournful in his voice. "I'm not."

The door slammed shut behind him.


	21. Chapter 21

**_Author's Note: _**I had some trouble designing this and the next two chapters so I hope it works out well. Oh and my new avi has words from this chapter. Also if you're following the time progression of the story, it goes something like this: Central Park trip was a day ago, restaurant and cloths shopping was two days ago, traveling to New York was the previous evening, and escape from Boston was three days ago. I know it probably feels like longer but that's just because the days have been so hectic. Again, thank you to all my reviewers. I love you guys. **Episode Connections**: Confidence Man

**Chapter 21**

He didn't return to the hotel that night. Kate fell asleep on top of the covers of her bed, waiting for him to return, not really knowing if he would. All his things were still in the hotel room, but that didn't mean anything since his wallet and cellphone were gone. Kate would have called him, but she didn't have the number, so she spent the night curled into fetal position until sleep finally took over.

He wasn't there in the morning either, and Kate was really starting to worry. At least the last time they fought and he'd stomped out, he was back in the morning, making breakfast in apparent content. Back then he was willing to let the fight go, but somehow she knew that would not be the case this time. Too much was discovered. Kate still didn't know why he had her mugshot and the Marshal's card, but her latest discovery about the true meaning of his letter made Kate realize how grossly she'd misjudged him and how little she really knew about Sawyer.

No, not Sawyer. It occurred to her that she had no idea why he chose to call himself by the name of someone he clearly despised. Kate didn't know exactly what had happened to him or why he kept a letter for all these years, a letter which seemed nothing more than the expression of a child's bitterness with the tragic events of his life. She only hoped that he would give her the chance to better understand him. Whether he realized it or not, they really were frighteningly similar.

She tried reading a little during the day, tried watching TV, even spent a few hours just sitting and thinking. It was starting to get dark outside again, but still Sawyer didn't come back. Kate checked outside and saw that the silver Mazda was still parked in front of the hotel, but that didn't reassure her. If the car was that easy to steal in the first place, he could have easily decided to abandon it. Kate had to wonder if he hadn't abandoned her as well.

She glanced at the old hotel phone at least once every few minutes, hoping to hear from him with no luck. Kate wished she had asked for his cellphone number when he first got it in case of an emergency, but she hadn't and now there was no use dwelling on it. Kate was almost ready to settle down again and try her hand at probably yet another futile attempt to read when the phone finally rang.

* * *

If he allowed himself to get drunk every time things got rough, Sawyer would have been able to match Christian himself shot for shot. Not that he was at all used to abstaining from liquor, but Sawyer usually drank just enough to numb the pain a little. Not tonight. Tonight he wasn't leaving the bar until he was plastered with enough alcohol to set off a bomb.

Christ, what the hell was wrong with him? He'd been so careful not to say anything, let her think he was the man in the letter. Sawyer knew that it was at least partially true; he may not have been the same man, but he was just as bad. Better she think of him that way than pity him. Eight-year-old James deserved her sympathy, but Sawyer sure as hell didn't, and he wasn't James anymore. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sawyer realized that the bar reminded him of the one in Boston. Just like that one, it smelled of booze and nicotine, small enough that it was crowded even on a weekday night. Had it been a weekday where he first laid eyes on her? Sawyer couldn't remember anymore. _What if I hadn't?_ he wondered. Would the damn Marshal have gotten to her? Would he and Jack be sharing a drink right now? Would he have gone up in smoke along with the apartment?

The cellphone vibrated inside his pant pocket, and Sawyer fumbled around with unsteady hands almost spilling his drink before he finally managed to pull it out and look at the caller ID. 617 area code. Boston. Unless Jack had decided to speak to him, there was only one other person who could be calling. Sawyer stared down at the phone as it vibrated in his hand and finally pressed the red hang up button. No way in hell was he talking to Christian in his condition. He was too disgusted with himself to face the man. Feeling like the biggest hypocrite in the world, Sawyer took another swing of his drink.

It was only nine in the evening, and the bar was still a buzz with activity. Men were huddled near the small television screen, watching the latest game, while a few women tried their best to get their attention. One sat down to Sawyer's right and ordered a drink, smiling at him seductively. When he ignored her, she got up with a huff and went to find another conquest. Even Sawyer himself found it hard to believe that sex was the last thing he wanted to think about at the moment. His immediate plan was to get so drunk that he wouldn't have to think at all.

"Well well well, you sure get around," Sawyer didn't move, but he suddenly felt very sober at the sound of the slimy snarky voice to his right. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the chair that was previously occupied by the woman being pulled away, and someone clearly male sat down. Sawyer lifted his tired eyes to meet the man's questioning silver ones.

"Who the fuck are you?" Sawyer asked gruffly, even though he knew exactly who it was. He hadn't forgotten the Marshal.

"Don't remember?" the man said, drolly. "We ran into each other about a month ago outside a bar in Boston."

"You're gonna have to be more specific," Sawyer snorted. "Got any idea how many bars there are in Boston?"

"Oh don't play dumb, Mr. Ford," the Marshal laughed. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You lied to me, Mr. Ford, and I don't like being lied to."

Sawyer's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. How the hell did this bastard know his name? "I lied to you? Probably right. What of it?"

"Do you realize that aiding a fugitive is a serious crime?" the man lowered his voice leaning closer. "You really want to add that to your already rather impressive rap sheet?" He paused, letting the thought sink in. "On the other hand, if you were to, maybe, make up for that little offense, I'd be willing to overlook some of your other misadventures. Where is she, James?"

In one smooth motion, Sawyer's right elbow connected with his jaw, and before the Marshal could react, he jumped to the ground, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and slamming him against the wall behind him. All the effects of the alcohol were suddenly forgotten completely. He could live with 'Mr. Ford,' but Sawyer would be damned if he let this asshole call him James, as if they were suddenly friends. The bar grew very quiet, the customers staring at them.

"There a problem here, gentlemen?" the bartender asked seriously. " 'Cause if there is, you'd better settle this outside."

"No, no problem at all," the Marshal smirked, prying Sawyer's hands off him. He pulled his badge out of his coat pocket and flashed it to the bartender. "Just a little misunderstanding. Come on, _James_. Let's go for a walk and chat a little about your new friend Katie."

He literally dragged Sawyer out of the bar. Outside Sawyer just glared at the man, rolling back his shoulders and trying not to stumble too much. He leaned against the wall of the nearest building and casually took out his pack of Marlboro reds. Nicotine and alcohol was the only way to go. Sticking the cigarette between his teeth, he glared at the Marshal.

"I don't know what the fuck you want from me, hoss, but you're barkin' up the wrong tree."

"There's no point in pretending, Mr. Ford," the Marshal smirked. "Your story back in Boston was less then convincing, so I kept you in mind. Few days ago, I hear some apartment got blown up, so I thought I'd check it out. It's her M.O., you know. Anyway, I thought it sounded familiar so I checked it out. Much to my surprise, the neighbors told me that the place belonged to a Sawyer. Lease was signed by a James Ford, but what the hell, right? So apparently this Sawyer, who lived on his own for six months, took in this young woman right around the time that a certain fugitive, Kate Austen, arrived in the city. Then a month later, the apartment goes up in smoke and both tenants mysteriously vanish. No bodies, no trace, nothing but two people matching your descriptions in the video tape from South Station."

"I don't know about any Kate Austen," Sawyer finally said, his speech slightly slurred. "Girl I was with called herself Annie, and she ditched me soon as we got to New York. Don't know where the hell she is now. Don't care much either."

"Sure you want to stick to that story?" the Marshal asked, clearly unhappy with his answer.

"Yep," Sawyer nodded, immediately wishing he hadn't as his head began to spin. "Bitch scammed me out of five grand and then took off. You see 'er around, you tell 'er I want my money back." He thought for a moment. "And that she wasn't as good as she said she was."

The Marshal laughed a little at the last comment, not really believing Sawyer. "Good night, Mr. Ford. Go sleep of that whiskey." With that he turned around and headed down the empty street.

"Will do," Sawyer called after him.

As soon as the Marshal was out of sight, he growled under his breath. No way in hell was he going back to the hotel and lead that bastard right to Kate. Sawyer was fairly sure that the Marshal planned on following him, though he couldn't guess for how long. Either way the hotel was out of the question, but the Marshal had been right in at least one thing: Sawyer really did need to sleep off the alcohol.

Wandering around the block, he found the cheapest possible motel in the area and decided to crash for the night. The Marshal would no doubt be waiting right outside the building, but as long as he was nowhere near Kate, Sawyer didn't much care. He really did need a good night's rest. Hoping his head would be clearer in the morning, Sawyer headed inside. He had just enough energy left to throw the money for the room at the desk clerk and climb the single flight of stairs before his strength gave out. As he fell asleep on top of the covers, Sawyer's last thought was of the hangover he was sure he wouldn't be spared.

He slept through the night and well into morning. When he finally rose at eleven thirty, only a half hour before check out time, Sawyer groaned at the splitting headache that pounded at both of his temples. There was nothing but tap water in the room, so he ventured back out into the city, cringing at the bright lights and sounds of what was nearly lunch time traffic.

Having learned when to exercise caution, Sawyer looked around for the Marshal. At first he didn't see any sign of the man, but then Sawyer spotted him a block away casually strolling down the street with a brown paper bag in his hand. He caught Sawyer looking in his direction and gave him a mocking two-finger salute. Sawyer cursed under his breath, knowing full well he couldn't go back to Kate. He looked down at his cellphone, contemplating whether or not he should call her but decided against it. There was no need to worry hear prematurely.

Sawyer spent the remainder of the day wandering the city, crashing at a Barns 'n' Noble book store for several hours. Casually ordering a cup of coffee that he hoped would help his lingering hangover. At one point Sawyer found himself in a big comfortable chair engrossed in a strange book about bunnies that he randomly picked up of the shelf. To his surprise, it was quite good and kept him occupied for hours. Eventually his head cleared, and when it started to get dark again, he put the book down and looked out the store window. Sure enough the Marshal was there, hovering closely by one of the exits. Sawyer cursed. _Fuck this shit_, he thought. It was time to take matters into his own hands.


	22. Chapter 22

**_Author's Note: _**Well I have two finals tomorrow: Shakespeare (Be all my sins remembered Hamlet) (No, Chris, Hamlet did not sleep with his mother!) and Physics (Emc2 Einstein). Wish me luck on those. On Friday I'm leaving for a week in Florida, but I'll try to get one more chapter in on either late Thursday or early Friday. If I don't, my apologies in advance. The song for this chapter is "Weapon" by Matthew Good Band. Again there are two links with 25 downloads in each as well as a link to the lyrics. If the downloads run out, tell me and I'll upload it again. For those of you on the downloads are on Lost-Media. **Episode Connections**: 1.03, Tabula Rosa, 1.16 Outlaws, and 1.24 Exodus pt. 2

**Chapter 22**

He managed to slip past the Marshal through a different exit in the store. Sawyer figured it would give him about an hour's time before the man realized he was missing which was plenty for what he had to do. Luckily Sawyer worked in New York before and knew full well that there was more to the city than stores and fancy restaurants. There were places where he wouldn't take Kate, criminal past or not.

Downtown New York had all sorts of businesses, from common pawn shops to small stores of immigrant families that were just trying to get by. The deeper he went, the less Sawyer saw of legitimate business and more of the shady locations. A strip joint that he also knew served as a drug trafficking house, a pool hall where crooks went to exchange illegal goods on the black market. Sawyer was well familiar with all the places and people in the area, whether he dealt with them personally or not, and there was one particular place that he was looking for now, though he hadn't expected to need it this soon.

Scott Phillips sat behind the glass counter on a stool that was clearly too small for his rather wide bottom. He looked bored, propping a saggy creak? on a meaty hand, and flipping through the pages of some sort of catalog. Around him, the walls were hidden behind shelves full of weapons, everything from semi-automatics to rifles and switch blades. The beefy man glanced up from his magazine when Sawyer came inside his store.

"What can I do for ya?" his thick New York accent contrasted drastically from Sawyer's southern one.

"Need a little favor," Sawyer unfolded a piece of paper and handed it to Phillips. "You carry one of these?"

The man glanced over the paper, and his brown furrowed. "Yeah I got it. You got a permit?"

"I got this," Sawyer threw a stack of fresh bills on the counter. "And I'd sure appreciate it if you kept this little purchase between us."

Phillips looked at the money, then at Sawyer, then at the money again. Finally he nodded, pocketing the stack, and read over Sawyers request once more. He disappeared into the back of the store and emerged a few moments later with a small hand gun. Rethinking his decision, but deciding that that getting paid was more important than his already lacking morals, he handed the gun to Sawyer handle first.

"You know, I've been doing this for a while," he said matter-of-factly, "and a man who buys a compact .357 with hollow-point loads, he's not looking to scare or steal: he's looking to kill. Gun's unregistered, but you get caught with this thing, and..."

"I ain't gonna rat you out," Sawyer assured him, and the truth was that he wasn't. He hoped he wouldn't have to use the gun at all, that he and Kate could slip out of the city before the Marshal could pick up their path again. But when push came to shove, Sawyer was willing to do whatever it took.

When Sawyer stepped outside, he quickly placed the small but rather lethal gun in his coat pocket and looked at his watch. Eight o'clock, and because Sawyer had been smart enough to leave the car knowing he would probably be in no shape for driving, he was at least an hour away from the hotel by metro. He pulled out his cellphone once again. As much as he hated to say anything, Sawyer knew that Kate had to be warned. He only hoped that she wouldn't panic.

These were not the circumstances under which he wanted to have their first conversation after what had happened at the hotel. Actually he half hoped that she had done what she planned to do earlier and left. He hoped that she had taken the car and was already somewhere far, far away from New York, away from the Marshal, and most importantly away from him. He'd caused her enough problems as it was. But Sawyer also knew that when he called, she would be there to pick up the phone.

* * *

As soon as she heard the heavy ringing of the old hotel phone, Kate's clouded thoughts cleared instantly, and she grabbed for it. She didn't consider that it could be the police or federal agents. She knew it was him.

"Sawyer," that hadn't come out the way she hoped, but rather in a short gasp, the emotions of the previous day still lodged in her throat.

"Kate," she heard his voice on the other line, and her concern rose tenfold. No "Hey, Freckles" or "Miss me, sweetheart?" Just her name, spoken with even more urgency than the had said his.

"Sawyer, where are you?" she asked, not at all angry but very concerned. "Are you alright?"

There was a pause, then: "Fine. Listen to me very carefully. Pack all of our things and leave them by the door. I'll be back in about an hour, and you have to be ready. We're leaving New York."

"What?" Kate was shocked. "What happened?"

"Nothin'," he didn't sound too convincing. "Just do exactly as I say, girl. Pack the bags and don't move an inch out of that room until I get there. Got it?"

"Tell me what's going on!" she demanded.

There was another pause, and now Kate was certain that he was holding something back from her.

"Kate," his voice sounded different now, tired and weary. "Everything's gonna be fine, I promise, but I need you to listen to me. I'll be back in an hour, and everything has to be ready to go. Until then, sit tight, okay?"

"Alright," she relented. "I'll do that."

"Good. See you in an hour."

The line went dead.

Kate's hand clutched around the receiver before she slowly placed it back on the telephone. Something had happened. No matter how much Sawyer insisted to the contrary, she could hear the concern and urgency in his voice. For a split second she thought that maybe he had decided to turn her in after all, that his instructions for her to remain inside were deliberate to make her an easy target for the police. But as soon as the thought entered her mind, Kate dismissed it. He wouldn't do that, not after their last encounter.

She packed everything in record time. Her own bag was ready, as she hadn't touched her things since the day before when she thought she would have to leave him. Kate threw his new clothes into the backpack he'd purchased earlier, and set both bags as well as the bag with the nine thousand dollars he'd exchanged for the first car beside the door. She looked at her watch; forty-five minutes till Sawyer promised to be back.

If she stood still for even a moment, Kate knew that she would be worrying about Sawyer's phone call, so she did anything she could to keep her mind off it. She made both beds, cleaned up the room and bathroom, throwing the miniature bottles of shampoo and soaps into her duffel bag, and even left a thank you note for the cleaning lady. Kate checked her watch again, and saw that the cleaning had only taken her a half an hour.

_Fifteen minutes isn't that big a deal_, she reasoned as she moved all three bags into the hallway and locked the hotel door. In the lobby she handed the keys to the desk clerk, muttering something about having to leave early. The clerk just nodded, promising to only charge the credit card for the three nights they stayed there, but Kate doubted it would matter much with the way Sawyer handled his finances.

Luckily for her, Sawyer had left the car keys on the nightstand, so when Kate got outside, she immediately loaded the bags into the trunk of the car. No need for nine grand worth of cash to ride in the passenger seat. She slammed the trunk shut and leaned on the car, once again checking her watch. It was almost nine, and the streetlights were already on. The street itself was relatively empty as Thursday night was not exactly a time for parties or going out.

Kate looked around anxiously but she didn't see Sawyer. Suddenly she heard approaching footsteps coming from a smaller street perpendicular to the one the hotel stood on. _It must be him_, Kate thought, a measure of relief setting in, and pushed herself off of the car to run around the corner of the intersection.

"Sawyer..." she started upon the sight of a shadow moving towards her, but as her eyes moved up the figure, Kate felt her pulse leap into her throat.

"Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart," the Marshal's thin lips curved into a sadistic smirk. Kate froze, her eyes wide, and he seemed almost amused by her deer-in-the-headlights look. He leisurely strode towards her, and Kate took an automatic step back, which only caused the Marshal to laugh.

"Don't run," he advised her. He reached inside his pant pocket and pushed something distinctly prominent forward. "Know what that is? I'll give you a hint; I'm thrilled to see you, kiddo, but it ain't that. No sudden movements now, Katie. Why don't you try something new and come quietly. You never know: there's an off chance someone might actually believe your story. I know I sure do."

"I don't care what you believe," she spat.

"Oh I know that," the Marshal agreed, "but what about your partner in crime? This Sawyer character? You really wanna drag that poor bastard down with you? Come quietly, and I'll have no reason to haul his ass to jail along with yours."

For the first time in the four years that he had been chasing her, the Marshal's words made Kate stop. She didn't want to go to jail, but she knew that she couldn't have anyone else's fate on her conscious. She couldn't let anyone take a fall for her, especially Sawyer who had done nothing but help her for the past month. She opened her mouth, almost ready to agree to turn herself in, when she heard the click of a gun being cocked behind her.

"Tryin' to make another offer that can't be refused?" Sawyer's voice came from the same direction. "You really gotta come up with a better pickup line, sheriff."

Kate allowed herself a glance over her shoulder and saw that he was standing only a few feet away from her, the small pistol in his hand aimed directly at the Marshal. She looked back at the law enforcement officer, expecting him to look scared or at the very least worried. Instead his grin grew even wider as he pulled out his own gun, but whether he was aiming at Sawyer or herself, Kate couldn't tell.

"Don't embarrass yourself," the Marshal told Sawyer. "You really think you can kill me? You've never killed a man in your life, kid. Why, even Katie here has a better shot at getting the job done than you. Least she has some experience in that area, ain't that right?"

Kate shot him an angry look, at which the Marshal only laughed harder. She looked back at Sawyer, whose brows were drawn together in concentration. He didn't seem phased by the Marshal's revelation, but there was a look about him that told her it was a conversation they would have to have later. If they survived the night.

"Don't be stupid, boy," she heard told Sawyer. "No need to be a hero on the account of this piece of white trash."

For a moment there was complete silence between the three as it appeared that Sawyer was contemplating what to do. The Marshal cocked an eyebrow at him, obviously confident that the younger man wouldn't dare pull the trigger. Kate's expression didn't betray any emotions, but Sawyer already knew. He knew that she wouldn't hold it against him if he decided to let the Marshal take her now. He knew she understood the power of self-preservation instinct. She was giving him the choice and the promise that he could make that choice free of guilt. Sawyer already knew that it wasn't a choice at all.

"I ain't not hero," he said dryly.

An echo rang through her ears as a gun was fired.


	23. Chapter 23

**_Author's Note:_** Sorry about all the drama with this update. I hope that doesn't happen again. The next chapter (the one you've all been waiting for ) will most likely be around Friday since it's almost done. That one also comes with a new song for the Black Halos soundtrack. Enjoy this one and please review. **Episode Connections:** 1.03 Tabula Rasa.

**Chapter 23**

Kate had always been a firm believer in taking responsibility for one's own actions. She'd chosen to kill once and had paid for it by self-exile from everything and everyone she loved. Yes, her actions could have been viewed as selfish, but she had never _never_ considered that she would ever be responsible for another human being becoming a murderer. She could deal with her own guilt, but bearing the blame for someone else's actions was too much.

Yet here she was standing over the body of U.S. Marshal Edward Mars, and she hadn't been the one who pulled the trigger. Sawyer was also there, the barrel of his freshly-fired gun still spewing smoke. His brows were drawn tightly together as he stared down at the body, his fingers still wrapped around the handle of the gun in a death grip. He was absolutely silent, neither surprised nor disturbed by the murder. In fact, he didn't show a single shred of emotions.

The Marshal lay motionless on the sidewalk, his bluish gray shirt stained dark crimson with the blood. His own gun had fallen to the ground at his side, the intended shot never fired. Kate's gaze shifted back to Sawyer, and she was about to say something, when a gurgling sound came from the body. Wide eyes of green and blue stared down at the Marshal, who moved sightly, crimson foam bubbling up from his mouth. He moaned in pain, eyes still screwed tight, and suddenly Kate understood.

"It punctured a lung," she breathed out, knowing exactly what that meant. The Marshal would still die, of course, but his death would be slow and excruciatingly painful. The man managed to turn his head towards her and let out a rough laugh.

"See? Knew he'd botch it up," he coughed.

"I was aiming for his heart," Sawyer muttered absently, more to himself than to Kate or the dying Marshal.

_You missed_, Kate thought sadly but said nothing. She kneeled by the man on the ground, who turned his head to her with a great deal of effort.

"So," the Marshal asked, "are you going to do it?"

The question hung in the air, but finally Kate bit her lip, her gaze becoming hard with sheer determination. She pried the other gun out of the Marshal's grip, his hand already going cold, and aimed it point black at the man's heart.

"I'm sorry," she whispered and pulled the trigger.

* * *

Sawyer hadn't said anything on their way back to that car that was still parked half a block behind them. His pistol was back in his coat pocket, and Kate had taken the Marshal's gun. There was no reason to leave more evidence behind, but Kate seriously hoped that they wouldn't need the guns again. Unfortunately she knew it was probably wishful thinking on her part. With the Marshal's death, the manhunt for her would only intensify.

However she had a more immediate things to worry about, mainly Sawyer's mental state. He silently rounded the car, heading for the driver's seat, and Kate hesitated before reaching for the car door on the other side. Sawyer didn't look at her as he fumbled around in his pocket for the keys. Silently, Kate pulled them out and tossed them to him.

"Are you sure you'll be okay to drive?" she asked in concern.

"Fine," Sawyer shot back, swinging the car door open with a rough jerk of his hand.

Kate got in after him, not at all as certain as he was. Sawyer was clearly trying to dismiss the Marshal's death as something that had to be done, something he should not have felt guilty about, but Kate knew better. No kill was ever simple, especially the first one. She watched as Sawyer started the car and pulled it out of the parking spot in a serious of erratic back and forth motions.

He drove for several blocks until they reached the Lincoln Tunnel and were soon out on the highway. Kate glanced over her shoulder at the bright evening lights of New York City, thinking of everything that had happened in the last few days and what she'd learned about her companion. She tore her eyes away from the sky line and back to Sawyer, who was stoically watching the road. Maybe it was the dim light, but for some reason he suddenly looked much older to her, the light lines around his eyes and mouth appearing as if out of nowhere. _God, what has happened to him?_ she thought desperately. _He's only twenty-nine._

"Where are we going?" she tried to bring him out of his shell with a small conversation. They had been driving for twenty minutes on the highway alone with no apparent destination.

"South," was his only reply.

Kate felt the car accelerate as Sawyer stepped on the gas pedal. Kate sat back and watched as they sped past all the other cars, every once in a while making sharp turns as they switched lanes. Every time he did, her hand tightened around the handle on the door. He had done a descent job driving in both Boston and New York. Sawyer's driving skills hadn't given her a reason to be nervous until now. She was starting to sorely regret giving in and letting him take the wheel. Murder was sure to disturb any normal person, but Kate wasn't even sure what kind of effect it would have on Sawyer's already addled psyche. There was nothing she could say to help him, and only time would tell if he'd be okay.

"Want to slow down?" Kate asked. She was more than sympathetic, but if he had a death wish, Kate was not about to let him accomplish it.

"Wanna butt out?" Sawyer shot back, sparing a glance off the road to glare at her.

"It's not gonna help, you know," Kate said quietly, her left hand digging into the seat belt. "Getting us both killed is not going to make you feel any better."

"The hell do you know how I feel?" he demanded sharply. "Oh that's right, silly me. You've done this whole killin' thing before."

It was a low blow, but Kate got the distinct feeling that at this point he just didn't care. She fell back into silence, but her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sirens behind them. Kate turned her head to look at the police car through the rear view window. Her first thought was that the authorities had figured out which car they were driving, but it was far too soon for that, and she realized that the stop was far more likely due to the fact that Sawyer was going over eighty miles per hour.

"Pull over," she instructed.

"Are you out of your mind?" Sawyer objected. "You forgetting what happened back there, or you think they'll go easier on you the second time around?"

"I think whoever's in that car doesn't know anything except for the fact that you're going twenty-five miles over the speed limit," Kate reasoned. "It's dark. If I pretend to be a sleep and turn away they won't see my face. Just pull over, Sawyer. We'll be in a lot more trouble if you don't."

Cursing under his breath, Sawyer finally did as he was told, pulling over to the shoulder. Kate heard the squad car park directly behind them and watched a police officer approach Sawyer through the side mirror. She turned her head to the side and closed her eyes, feigning sleep. In the dark, all the officer would be able to see was a mess of dark curls. He had no reason to inquire about her, or so Kate hoped. She heard Sawyer roll down the window, which was followed by a man's voice.

"License and registration please," he asked, and suddenly a bolt of panic ran through Kate. Had Sawyer made up a fake registration for the car when he stole it from the dealership? It was probably not too difficult for him, but had he thought to do it? Apparently Sawyer wasn't concerned as he pulled out a slip of paper and a driver's license card, calmly handing it to the officer, who went back to the squad car. Kate took advantage of the cop's momentary absence.

"You have a fake license and registration?" she asked Sawyer.

"Told you this ain't the first time I've done this," he replied, a little of his old cocky self seeping back in. "Well, not the whole murder thing. That's a new one."

They heard the cop's approaching footsteps, and Kate turned back around. Out of the corner of her closed eye, she saw the light beam from a flashlight pass over the left side of her face as the officer no doubt checked to see if she was really asleep. He held her breath, fearing that he would recognize her profile from some wanted poster, but the light quickly disappeared.

"Do you know why I pulled you over, sir?" the officer asked.

_Please, just answer the man_, Kate prayed and shut her eyes tighter. _This isn't the time to be a smart ass_. Her prayers were apparently answered as she heard Sawyer's reply.

"I know I was speedin', officer," he said in his most apologetic voice, "and I'm sorry. It's just that... well, you know... nature's callin', and I'm tryin' to get home. Don't wanna make any pit stops. My girlfriend's sleepin', as you can see, and I don't feel right leavin' her alone in the car with a bunch of lonely truck drivers roamin' around."

The cop seemed to consider that, instantly becoming much more sympathetic to the circumstances. "I'm still going to have to give you a ticket," he said. "You were going way above the speed limit."

"I understand," to Kate's immense Sawyer received the ticket without a word of complaint. The officer's footsteps receded and his car pulled back out onto the highway a minute after that.

"That damn bill is gonna end up in that singed apartment back in Boston," Sawyer muttered under his breath, already reaching to disengage the break, but Kate placed her hand over his on the handle.

"Let me drive," she offered. "We got off easy this time. Might not get this lucky again."

"I said I was fine," he retorted though not as sharply.

"I'm not saying you're not, but maybe I should just take over for a little while," Kate saw the window of opportunity and knew that she would have to speak carefully in order not to wound his pride too much and make him even more difficult to reason with. If need be she was willing to fight him, but there was no way Kate was letting him drive again. She expected a measure of resistance and after a beat of silence thought that Sawyer was going to argue, but he didn't. Wordlessly, he got out and opened her passenger door.

"You gonna get out or what?" he asked sharply. Kate said nothing and got into the driver's seat. She adjusted all the mirrors and pulled the seat forward. It felt like ages since she had driven a car, and considering Kate had spent a good deal of time hitchhiking, that was probably true.

"So, you're the driver," Sawyer said. "Where do you think we should go?"

Kate hadn't considered it but as he asked she suddenly remembered a sleepy area of rural Pennsylvania west of Philadelphia that she had passed on her way to Boston. It was small and quiet, full of farms and the Amish that minded their own business and rarely paid attention to the people of the outside world. A perfect place to lay low and recover for a little while. Looking at Sawyer, Kate realized that it was exactly what they would need to do. Until Sawyer was at least partially back to normal, they couldn't make any reasonable plans.

"Lancaster County," she finally decided, releasing the manual break. "It's about three and a half hours away from here."


	24. Chapter 24

**_Author's Note:_** Well as promised the big moment is here. 74 pages and 24 chapters by my count. That's gotta be one of the longest stretches of abstinence ever in skate fic history so I hope it was worth it. The song for this chapter is "Burn" by Mad at Gravity. It's a little angry, but I think it works. As usual, there are two download places and one link to lyrics. If the downloads run out, tell me and I'll upload it again. If you're on the music is on Lost-Forum. **Episode Connections:** None, but briefly look back at chapter 14.

**Chapter 24**

At past four in the morning, they finally entered Amish country. Kate could tell by the familiar smell of cattle and the road that now only had one lane in each direction. They passed farms, stacks of hay, and an old abandoned rail road that looked more like a tourist attraction than anything else. It was as beautiful a countryside as she remembered, but of course they could see very little in the middle of the night. Luckily Kate had passed the area before and was fairly good about recognizing road marks even if the only other time she had seen them was through the window of a Greyhound buss.

She found a small Bed & Breakfast and pulled into the parking lot. Kate half expected a comment from Sawyer either about their overall location or about the small overnight accommodations, but he hadn't offered up anything. He'd barely said two words to her since she took the wheel, and Kate mentally winced at her own mistake. The lack of communication had allowed him ample time to stew in his own juices and mull over what had taken place in New York.

There was an old lady at the front desk who looked like she was on her way to dreamland. Kate quietly placed some cash on the counter in front of her, and the old woman only glanced up at them long enough to see that there were two people before she swerved around in her revolving chair and reached for a set of keys.

"Second floor, room sixteen. Enjoy your stay," she muttered and promptly went back to sleep.

Kate picked up the keys and seeing that Sawyer was already halfway up the stairs, followed him up. He was already waiting for her near the correct door with the bags set at his feet. She unlocked the door and entered, switching on the light to her right. Instantly the room was illuminated to reveal the Martha Stewart-like decorations.

There was only one room, and it was much smaller than the one they left behind in New York, but it was definitely much nicer. White candle holders and vases with colorful patterns were set up along the small protruding shelves all the way around the perimeter of the room, along with a spider plant near the single window. There was a door to their left that most likely led to the bathroom. But what caught Kate's attention immediately was the four post bed with perfectly arranged quilts and pillows. The single bed.

She was at a loss. The woman at the front desk must have taken them to be a couple and therefore not in need of a second bed. Kate turned to Sawyer, who eyed the room with minimal interest. At any other point, she was guaranteed a sexual comment, but he remained quiet, simply running his gaze across the room seemingly unaware of their dilemma.

"I'll go downstairs and ask for a folding bed," she offered, already turning back to the door, but Sawyer shook his head.

"It's fine," he said. "I'll take the floor. One night won't kill me."

"Ever the southern gentleman," Kate gave a weak smile. "Alright, take what you need from the bed. I think I'll take a shower."

She looked down at her hands and realized with disgust that they were stained with the Marshal's now-dry blood. Sawyer, meanwhile, sank on the edge at the foot of the bed, a blank expression on his face. Kate took one last look at him and disappeared into the bathroom. She found several white cotton towels neatly folded and stacked on the shelves. There was a small bottle of complementary shampoo and a wrapped piece of soap next to the sink. On the shelf next to the towels, Kate discovered a bathrobe.

Kate remembered showering the same way after the first time _he_ had dared to lay a hand on her. She didn't care what anyone else said; she only wanted to feel clean, and for the first few times it had worked. With the hot water streaming down her body, she could at least pretend to forget everything and take an unhurried breath of steamed air. But it wasn't long until the magic effects of the shower began to wear of until the water no longer did anything to calm her at all. When she killed him, she had also showered, but by then Kate no longer felt clean. She felt like there was something under her skin, crawling so deep that there was no way to get it out. She didn't care how bad Sawyer thought he was; he hadn't been a murderer. Until now. And it was she who turned him into one. Kate didn't know how Sawyer would ever forgive her, but she knew for a fact that she would never forgive herself.

The water was beginning to turn cold, signaling to her that it was time to get out and face the real world. When Kate emerged from the bathroom, sash tied loosely across the simple white cotton gown, Sawyer was in exactly the same position as when she'd left him, sitting at the foot of the bed, his hands dangling limply over his legs. The look in his eyes scared her the most. It was vacant, devoid of any signs of life. It was a look she remembered seeing when she looked into a mirror for the first time after _that_ night.

Sawyer had never killed a man before. She knew that for a fact even before today. A murderer always recognized one of their own. He had acted upon some deeper instinct that she couldn't recognize, but suddenly it dawned on her. The answer was so obvious Kate couldn't believe she hadn't realized it earlier. Perhaps she didn't realize it because she was afraid to admit it. Sawyer had been protecting her all this time.

He hadn't aimed that gun at the Marshal because he feared for his own life. Time and time again Kate saw that that his own life was all but worthless in his eyes, and after discovering the truth about the letter, she had a better understanding of why that was. Killing the Marshal certainly did not do anything to help Sawyer's feeling of worthlessness.

"Sawyer?" she gently lowered herself to meet his eye, resting her hands on his knees. "It wasn't your fault. He had a gun. He was threatening both of us." When there was no response, she tried a different approach. "I shot him. Sawyer, I killed him, not you."

She heard him scoff and mutter something she didn't quite catch. "What was that?" Kate moved to sit down on the bed to his left, taking his hand in hers.

"He said he knew I wasn't a killer," Sawyer whispered, his eyes falling closed for a moment. "He was wrong."

"Who..." Kate was having trouble following his train of thought.

Sawyer swallowed hard before responding. "My father."

The statement threw Kate for a moment. From what she understood from the letter, Sawyer's parents had been dead since he was eight, so she wasn't sure exactly who he was talking about. Nevertheless, the sense that he had disappointed someone whose opinion mattered a great deal to him was obvious.

Kate reached out and touched his right check, turning his head slightly towards her. Sawyer tried to look away, but she held his face firmly between her palms. She tried to come up with something comforting to say, something that would put the blame back on her, but before Kate could come up with anything, Sawyer acted by capturing her lips.

Sawyer didn't know what he was thinking. He'd acted on pure need, the need to feel anything but worthlessness and emptiness. Considering how their last kiss went, he expected her to push him away or at least resist, but Kate hadn't. Getting over the initial surprise, she responded, sliding her hands from the sides of his face to tangle them into his blond strands and tracing the pads of her thumbs over his temples.

He kissed the corners of her mouth, before roughly reclaiming her lips. Kate tried to keep up with him, but Sawyer was moving too quickly, possessively taking control of the situation that was sure to take her further than she had ever been with a man for the last four years. But Kate let him, partially because she knew he deserved the comfort of human contact after what had happened and partially because for the first time in a long time, she felt like a woman, allowing him to take control.

Sawyer was more than willing to oblige her, though at the time he was hardly thinking of it that way. His mouth moved to her jaw then throat, running light patterns along the thinnest and softest skin. He strayed for a moment on her pulse, feeling it beat with increasing intensity. He felt her chest heave as she took in a long breath and let it out slowly to steady herself.

They broke apart only long enough for Sawyer to rid himself of his shirt and shorts, dropping them carelessly at the foot of the bed. Kate pulled herself further up along the quilted covers, heedless of the fact that the sash of her robe was coming undone and that she had no other garments under it. His boxers still set firmly around his slim hips, but the evidence of his arousal was becoming all to obvious. Sawyer crawled up the bed, tossing open her gown and opening her body to his hungry gaze.

It was no secret to him that she was beautiful. They had, after all, lived together for four weeks prior to fleeing the Boston apartment. Sawyer was not shy about his own body, and their paths had crossed several times with one or both of them in a towel. He had teased her lightly, but that was when all he saw was a girl. Now he knew better; every dip, every curve, every crevice told him that she no child. With the gown now entirely open, she lay there completely exposed, one arm resting on the pillow at an angle over her head while the other fell on her flat stomach.

Sawyer ran one exploring hand down the length of her naked flesh, fingers dancing across her throat and collar bone. He traveled through the valley between her perfectly shaped breasts and down her abdomen. Kate didn't resist nor did she encourage him. She seemed content to lie motionless and let him continue his exploration, but when his fingers reached the apex of her thighs, she momentarily stiffened.

Her hesitation only lasted for a split second, but it was enough for Sawyer to notice. He hadn't spent years learning every detail of a woman's body language for nothing. Unsure of the source of hesitation, he proceed slower until his fingers encountered the first scar then the second and the third, and suddenly Sawyer realized just how selfish his actions had been.

He'd thought only of his own misery, of his own self pity and grief. Just because she hadn't pushed him away and had in essence offered her body as comfort, didn't mean that she was okay. Far from it. Her willingness to comfort him only showed how infinitely more selfless she was. Where Sawyer only considered himself, she had never once thought of her own needs, only of his. Only now did Sawyer realize how difficult it must have been for her to allow herself to become intimate with a man. What she must have gone through...

Kate was only dimly aware of the fact when his tactics changed. His touch became softer, less hurried. Smoothing both palms over her body to both calm and excite her at the same time, Sawyer focused all of his attention on her pleasure. He took the time to trace his tongue over her heated skin. His mouth found its way back to hers, and this time, he kissed her with softness. Every kiss, every touch was placed almost strategically to make sure she was comfortable with him.

When her breath began to become heavier, emerging only in small puffs of warm air, her breasts rising and falling with increasing rhythm, he covered her body with his. Before he entered her, Sawyer placed both hands on either sides of her face and met her clouded moss green gaze, and for a moment, in her eyes darkened by passion, he could see the real Kate. She wasn't perfect, far from it, but she was real, flesh and blood and warmth, all the things that so drastically contrasted with his own feeling of cold nothingness.

Finally he thought she was ready, and Sawyer entered her, moving slowly, probing inside with infinite care. She wasn't a virgin, he knew that much, but Sawyer could tell that she hadn't been with a man in a very long time. Kate took him in completely, wrapping her arms around his torso and arching her back and inhaling another full gulp of air. When he began to move deep within her, Kate couldn't help but moan. Sawyer dipped his head back down, swallowing her sighs within another kiss.

They came in the same manner in which they moved: together and without hurry. Every concern and uncertainty within him, Sawyer emptied everything he had inside her. Kate was there with him, opening beneath him, accepting it and transforming it into something beautiful. When he was finally spent, he collapsed on top of her and quickly rolled over to the side, burying his face in her mahogany curls. Kate expected him to pull away immediately, but to her surprise he didn't. Instead he made himself comfortable behind her, one arm loosely draped around her hip. He didn't hold her, and Kate expected nothing like that from him, but she did recognize a need in him to be close. Falling asleep with a wistful smile on her lips, Kate murmured an inaudible good-night. She didn't think he'd heard her, but a second later she felt his nose nuzzle into the skin just bellow her neck.

"You smell good," Sawyer muttered sleepily, and Kate smiled.

"Thanks," she closed her eyes.


	25. Chapter 25

**_Author's Note:_** How come every time I go to update Lost-Forum is down? Well at least is still here for me. Appropriately dubbed the "morning-after" chapter. Don't let this chapter worry you too much. There is more skate on the way. Again, thank you very much for your reviews. **Episode Connections:** None.

**Chapter 25**

A knock on the door instantly woke Kate from her slumber. Her eyes flew open with the second knock, and she bolted up in bed, covers flying up to cover her chest. As soon as she opened her eyes, Kate's familiar feeling of disorientation passed through her quickly, only to be replaced by a classic morning after fear. Her hand fell on the empty spot on the bed next to her, but Kate could feel that it was still warm, as if Sawyer occupied it only moments ago. His location became clear as she heard the running shower in the bathroom. Unconsciously, Kate pulled the covers closer around her and pressed her thighs tighter together. The knock came again, this time accompanied by the voice of the old lady from the front desk.

"Housekeeping," she called.

Kate frowned. Housekeeping? What time was it? She glanced at the clock on the nightstand next to the bed, and the merged hands on the digit twelve stared back at her. It was noon. Kate usually didn't sleep in that late, but considering the hour in which they arrived and everything that followed, she supposed she could forgive herself. Sliding off the bed and letting the sheet trail behind her, she padded to the door. Her movements were a bit awkward as she was still quite tender. Before she could say that they didn't need housekeeping, the woman's voice came again.

"Are you alright, dear?" she asked in concern.

"Yes, everything's fine," Kate replied politely, though in truth she wasn't so sure. "We don't need anything, thank you."

"Alright, suit yourself, dear," through the door, Kate heard the departing cart and the old woman seemed to laugh knowingly to herself.

She turned away from the door and back to the rest of the room to survey the damage. Her robe was tangled among the quilt and other sheets, while Sawyer's clothes were right where he dropped them at the foot of the bed. Kate scanned the room for her own garments until she remembered that they were still in the bathroom after her shower last night. With a frustrated groan, she reached for her duffel bag to retrieve a spare set of clothes. However, before she had a chance to do that, the handle on the bathroom door jiggled. Kate watched as Sawyer emerged from the bathroom, apparently deciding that the simple formality of a towel was no longer necessary. She couldn't help but stare for a moment which earned her a rich burst of laughter from Sawyer.

"Like what you see, sweetheart?" he sent her a sexy smirk.

Kate wrinkled her nose and turned back to her bag, ignoring his comment. For whatever reason, she didn't feel nearly the intense sexual attraction between them in the morning as she had at night. Last night it was all about heat and comfort, but once the need was filled, she was left with an odd sort of feeling of not quite knowing how to be around him anymore.

Sawyer clearly did not share her uncertainly as he marched to the bed, still completely nude, and picked up his clothes off the floor. The entire time, Kate could feel his eyes firmly fastened on her. She grabbed the first shirt her hand closed on and got up. Sawyer was in her path to the bathroom and didn't move when she stalled to let him pass. With an annoyed scoff, Kate pushed past him.

She locked the door behind her and, gripping the sides of the sink with both hands, and stared at her reflection in the mirror. _Don't feel any different_, Kate thought, pulling her hair back from her shoulders. Aside from the soreness and a few stray marks that were remnants of his rougher attentions, her skin was free of any blemishes. After four years of celibacy, Kate figured she expected to feel at least slightly different somehow, but there didn't seem to be any noticeable change. Kate looked around the sink for her toothbrush before suddenly realizing that in her hurry to get everything packed back in New York, she must have forgotten it in the hotel room bathroom. With a sigh, she picked her clothes from the towel shelf where she'd stacked them the night before and proceeded to get dressed.

Kate came out, straightening her shirt, and saw Sawyer sitting on the edge of the bed and tying his shoes. For a moment, she saw him as he was last night; hands helplessly hanging in his lap. He'd been so despondent at first, so ready to drown his sorrows in her almost to the point of selfishness, but the instant his demeanor shifted, Kate knew better. He wasn't as cold as he pretended to be, but that didn't mean she was ready to let him back into her bed anytime soon. She blinked, returning back to the present just in time to see Sawyer look up at her with one of his million-dollar grins.

"Wanna call room service?" he suggested.

"No, that's okay," Kate replied absently. In truth she didn't want to see the old woman's, or anyone else's, looks as if they were a newly married couple. That was something that she gave up hope of ever experiencing years ago.

"And where, pray tell, are you plannin' to find breakfast?" Sawyer crossed his arms over his chest, slightly miffed about her distraction. "Ah right, I almost forgot. You're a country girl. Must feel right at home here, don't you, Freckles? So what, you gonna go milk us a fresh cow?"

"I'm..." Kate paused, looking out the window. "I'm going to the diner across the street."

Without a further invitation, she marched out of the room. Sawyer stared after her until he finally decided that he had no desirer to eat alone. From her attitude, it was pretty clear to him that Kate didn't want to mention last night in any way shape or form. _Well_, he thought, getting up. _Wonder how long that'll last._

He spotted her in a booth seat through the diner's wide windows from across the street. Having spent the past several months in Boston and then in New York City, Sawyer had grown accustomed to checking for traffic, but when the first hoarse and buggy picked up a dust cloud on the dirt road, he remembered where he was. Aside from the small town where they found themselves, Sawyer could see nothing but corn fields for miles on end. He kicked at the dirt and crossed the street to the diner.

It was nothing like the little establishment across from the hospital in Boston. Upon entering, Sawyer almost expected to hear the playing of an old, out-of-tune piano just like in any proper saloon from the wild west. _Yeah, the White Hats should be sitting just about there_, he thought to himself, looking over at the bar, _just in time for the Black Hats to go bustin' through those doors. Should probably have a dancing girl or two with feathers in their hair._ While he pondered at his ability to so easily amuse himself, Sawyer wandered over to the booth where Kate was drinking her coffee and slid into the seat across from her.

"Lovely weather we're having this morning," he commented, picking up the menu.

"It's twelve thirty," Kate replied coolly over her cup then turned her attention back to the plate of eggs and waffles on the table in front of her.

"And the afternoon sure brought in a cold draft," Sawyer muttered but looked up when the waitress approached their table.

"Can I get you something?" she asked, pulling out her pad and pencil.

"Yeah," Sawyer thought for a moment then handed her the menu. "I'll have what she's having."

From the corner of his eye, Sawyer saw Kate glaring at him.

"Waffles and scrambled eggs coming right up," the waitress jotted down his order. "Would you like coffee with that, sir?"

"That'd be great," Sawyer smiled almost too sweetly. "You're a doll."

His eyes were purposefully fixated on the waitress's behind, but when he glanced back at Kate, Sawyer was amused by the hard look she was giving him. _Why, Freckles, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous_, he mused to himself, but of course, saying that out loud was an invitation for an argument. As soon as he turned back to the table, Kate went to staring at her food again.

"I saw a pharmacy about a mile back from here," she said matter-of-factly. "I'm going to drop by there after we eat."

"What for?" Sawyer asked.

"Because we need some essentials," Kate replied. "You may be able to live without a toothbrush, but I can't, and apparently mine's back in New York."

"That all?" Sawyer raised an eyebrow. "And here I was thinkin' you were gonna invest in a pack of Trojans."

"Won't need them," Kate wrinkled her nose. "Trust me."

"Whatever you say, sweetcheeks," he knew she was about to argue, but the arrival of the waitress with his food saved Sawyer. He nodded at the woman and picked up his fork to run it through the eggs. "Mmm," he said sarcastically, letting the yellow substance dribble through the fork. "Just like Mama used to make."

The rest of the meal was spent in silence, and when they were finished, the waitress cleared the table and handed Sawyer the check. He looked at the fourteen seventy-five at the bottom of the bill and unceremoniously handed her fifteen dollars. Kate was already outside and walking along the street away from the Bed & Breakfast.

"Hey, Freckles, thought you said we were going to the pharmacy," Sawyer called after her.

"It's a mile down the road," she said over her shoulder without stopping. "You don't need a car for that."

" 'Course not," he jogged to catch up with her. "Not at the rate you're goin', anyway. You know, not that I don't mind the view, Freckles, but I'm gettin' real tired of walking behind you like a damn mutt."

"Then walk faster," Kate retorted while at the same time increasing her own pace.

Sawyer just threw up his hands in defeat. _Serves me right for stayin' in this morning_, he thought. _Thought I learned better a while back._

Kate quickly disappeared inside the pharmacy, while Sawyer lazily wandered through the aisles, once in a while picking up random junk that he could have sworn was from before he was born. His eyes scanned the shelves for nothing in particular before they came to rest on the real prize. He grinned to himself. Why not?

Sawyer strode up to the counter just as Kate pulled out two dollar bills to pay for the toothbrush. Without a word he placed a box of condoms on the counter. For a second, Kate looked mortified before her gaze hardened.

"I thought I told you we didn't need that?" she hissed at him.

"Who said they were for you, princess?" Sawyer asked with mock innocence, reaching for his wallet.

Kate rolled her eyes but picked up the box nonetheless. "Magnums?" she read. "Now, I _know_ you don't need _that_."

"Hey now, none of that," he objected. "I think you missed something last night, Freckles. Be glad to demonstrate again, if you like."


	26. Chapter 26

**_Author's Note:_** If I said this part of the story was at least a little bit influenced by Brokeback Mountain which I just saw, I'd be lying. No, I'm not going Jawyer on you all, but the thought of Sawyer as a cowboy is just too good to pass up. Ok so there are no classical cowboys per se in Lancaster, but does anyone here really mind? I thought not. Also in anticipation of Sawyer's upcoming episode, I've added in a little musing on why I think Sawyer is expected to be distrustful of women.** Episode Connection:** 2.09 What Kate Did.

**Chapter 26**

Sawyer was getting the distinct feeling that Kate didn't want him around. It wasn't that she didn't speak to him or that she always walked two steps ahead of him. No, what made him wonder was the fact that she no longer gave him annoyed looks when he pulled out his dirty jokes. Kate simply ignored him.

Eventually Sawyer decided that the best thing to do would be to give her some space. He wasn't used to women being shy around him. Matter of fact, he wasn't used to staying for the morning-after chat unless it was for work, and now Sawyer thought he really hadn't missed much. So while she returned to the Bed & Breakfast, he set out to explore Lancaster on his own. Sawyer quickly discovered that it was true what they said about Pennsylvania: it really was made up of Pittsburgh, Philadelphia and Alabama in between.

He drove around for about an hour, visiting the Railroad Museum out of sheer boredom and the site of the Renaissance Fair out of curiosity. Eventually the area became nothing but farmland, consisting of stocks of wheat and hay with dairy farms mixed in every few miles. Suddenly feeing nostalgic, Sawyer parked the car on the side of the road across from one of the farms. He crossed the road and, with one foot resting on the old worn out fence, looked across the field where the cows were calmly grazing, enjoying the late afternoon sun.

He didn't realize how late it was becoming until he saw the red orb rolling low on the horizon, shadows already spilling across the plains. It reminded Sawyer more of home than he cared to admit. There was some kind of beauty in the simplicity of it all that he couldn't quite explain, and suddenly it dawned on him that it was the same kind of beauty he saw in Kate. Sure, she could put on an evening gown and dazzle all of New York City, but the way she looked that morning in her plain jeans and shirt with her hair not done up in any fancy style but falling in ringlets all around her shoulders that stunned him the most. Remembering Central Park, Sawyer decided that indeed there was something inseparable about Kate and nature.

"You here for the job?" Sawyer glanced over his left shoulder at the portly man in the jean overalls. He looked about fifty with a thick beard that curled down to his chest. Behind him, Sawyer could just make out a help wanted sign nailed to the fence.

"Nah, just passin' through," he replied.

"You're a bit far away from the usual tourist spots," the man noted. "Nothing out here but farms."

"So I noticed," Sawyer said dryly.

"Well, in case you change your mind, name's Andrew," the farmer held out his dirty hand, and Sawyer shook it without hesitation. "We need a new pair of hands around here, at least for a little while."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sawyer answered curtly and turned back to his car.

He ate dinner alone at the same restaurant where he and Kate had shared breakfast. Somehow Sawyer thought it would be best to give her the entire day to come to her senses. Whatever she decided was fine with him. If she insisted on writing it off as a one-night stand, Sawyer was perfectly fine with it. _Wouldn't be the first time_, he thought, but he had to admit that in the back of his mind there was a hope that she wouldn't dismiss what happened between them.

Unfortunately for Sawyer those hopes proved false when he returned to their room in the Bed & Breakfast and saw the foldout bed placed on the very far side of the room, as far away from the actual bed as possible. _So that's the way it's gonna be, Freckles?_ Sawyer bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully and lowered himself onto the mattress of the foldout bed. The rusted springs complained with high pitched squeaks at his weight pressing down on the bed, but eventually Sawyer was able to find a more or less comfortable position and tucked his hands under his head for support.

Sawyer was almost drifting off to sleep when he heard the doorknob turning and opened his eyes just in time to see Kate enter. She was obviously not expecting him back because when her eyes fell on him sitting up on the foldout bed, she stopped in the doorway, suddenly at a loss of what to do.

"Hey."

"Hey," he repeated, and her eyes instantly went to the floor but his never left her face. Kate quickly sobered and closed the door behind her. It was then that Sawyer noticed a small bag in her hands which she placed on the nightstand next to the main bed. They had to talk, she knew that much, but just as she turned back to him, Sawyer gestured at the bag.

"Been out trick-or-treatin'?" he asked curiously.

"Ah... no, actually it's something I've been meaning to get a while ago," she reached inside the bag and pulled out a cotton nightgown. It was nothing fancy, just a plain light blue gown with white flowers sprinkled on the material. The sleeves were short, and it fell to just a few inches above her knees. Sawyer raised an eyebrow and gave a low whistle.

"I hope that's for me, Freckles," he teased but immediately wished he'd kept his mouth shut when an uncomfortable look passed over Kate's face. "Damn it," he cursed. "Ignore me. I open my mouth, and words just come out..."

"Sawyer, stop," she held up her hands and tossed the nightgown on the bed sinking down next to it with a heavy sigh. "Look, about last night..."

"Forget it," he waved his hand dismissively. "You made it perfectly clear this morning that you wanted to."

Kate opened her mouth to object, but then realized she couldn't. He was right; in the morning she really did want to forget, but looking back on it now Kate wasn't entirely sure. Their relationship had changed, there was no doubt about that, but a part of her wondered if it wasn't for the better.

"Look," she moved around the four-post bed and sat down on the cot next to him. Kate almost reached for his hand before deciding against it and folding her own hands in her lap. "I don't want to forget it, and I don't want to pretend it didn't happen. But you have to understand that me and..." she paused looking for the right word, "me and intimacy aren't exactly... familiar, and this whole thing between us... It's going to take me some time to get used to, so if you could... you know... not pressure me, that would be nice."

Sawyer watched her for a moment to see if she was serious. It wasn't like women were always terribly honest. Hell, he made his living off of their amazing ability to put on one face in the bedroom and another in the outside world. Despite that, Sawyer had learned how to read people well. He knew Kate wasn't playing, and as for her discomfort regarding sex, well, he was willing to be a little patient, even if it meant sleeping on the foldout bed for a while.

"Lady's choice," Sawyer said finally, and it felt like the air thick with tension had just been sucked out of the room. Kate gave him a grateful simile and patted his arm. The springs squeaked again as they decompressed when her weight disappeared. She crossed the room to pick up a bottle of water from the top of the dresser.

"So,"she took a gulp. "Back in New York you mentioned something about Florida?"

It took Sawyer a moment to remember what she was referring to, but he did recall mentioning an idea of heading down south. Hibbs was in Tampa, he knew that much, and chances were the older con man would have a job for him, but the idea of bringing Kate into that lifestyle was suddenly very unappealing. Back in New York, it was just a passing thought, something he hadn't given much consideration too, but now that it seemed like a tangible possibility, Sawyer couldn't say he was terribly thrilled with it.

"Maybe," he replied, "but I ain't too eager to head back down there. Ever been to Florida in the summer, Freckles?"

"Not in the summer, no," Kate answered, and for a moment her gaze seemed miles away, like she suddenly remembered something from long ago.

"Well, let me put it like this," Sawyer continued, not having caught her nostalgic look. "In the summer, if I owned Florida and Hell, I'd rent out Florida and live in Hell."

"I thought you were from the South," Kate teased. "Can't stand the heat?"

"It ain't the heat, it's the hurricanes," Sawyer retorted. "Anyway, Florida's miserable this time of year."

"Well, I'm open to suggestions," Kate shrugged. "Though personally, I like it here just fine. It's pretty quiet, and the people are nice. Plus," she lowered her voice, "it might be a good place to lay low for a little while. After... after New York."

She didn't want to bring it up again, but the fact was that showing their faces around any cities was not a good idea. Though Kate was fairly sure there weren't any witnesses who could give their descriptions to the police, she also knew that whoever would pick up her investigation was most likely not stupid. They would quickly link her to the Marshal's death, and she didn't want Sawyer there when that happened.

Sawyer considered her words for a moment. Though the easy-going good natured people didn't make Sawyer feel as warm and fuzzy as they obviously made Kate, he did like the area. His mind flashed to earlier in the morning when the farmer had approached him regarding a job. Suddenly staying in Lancaster County didn't sound like such a bad idea.

"Yeah, I guess we can do that," he agreed. "Ain't like there's any hurry. Matter of fact, I just got a job offer this morning that I might take the guy up on it."

"A job?" Kate raised an eyebrow. "Is it legal?"

"Now, Freckles," Sawyer pretended to sound hurt. "Have you so little faith in me?"

"About this? Yes," she folded her hands under her chest and leaned on the dresser behind her. "So, tell me about this job?"

"I'm a little fuzzy on the details myself," Sawyer admitted but when Kate gave him a hard look, he held up both hands in defense, "but unless the old dirt scratcher has ties to the mafia I don't know about, I'm pretty sure we're safe."

"Don't even joke about that," Kate shuttered mentally, remembering the remnants of Sawyer's burning apartment in Boston.

"Hey," he got up and faced her. "It's an honest job, okay? Considering my track record, I'd say that's a nice change. Besides, this room ain't cheap, so we need the money."

Kate couldn't argue with that. As nice as Lancaster was, it was a bit low on cheap motels, and any Bed & Breakfast was bound to be as expensive as the one they were staying at now. She glanced down at her watch and saw that the hands were firmly planted at eight.

"Have you eaten?" she asked.

"Yeah, right before I got back," Sawyer replied, and Kate nodded.

"Then let me go grab some dinner to go too, and I'll be back soon," she started out the door but paused at the last minute. "Sawyer, about the sleeping arrangement, I can..."

"I'll take the cot," he cut her off. "Already used to the idea, so don't argue with me."

Kate smiled and walked out of the room. Her last thoughts before she closed the door were that at least his southern manners survived.


	27. Chapter 27

**_Author's Note:_** Nothing terrible exciting to say about this chapter except to alert you guys to note the time passage. Oh and don't worry; you will see Sawyer at his cowboy job, but in a later chapter. Thanks, as always, for reviewing. **Episode Connections:** 1.10 Raised By Another and 2.09 What Kate Did, as well as Chapter 6 from Black Halos.

**Chapter 27**

For two weeks straight, Kate didn't see Sawyer in the mornings. He rose just as light began to hit the horizon and was gone before she even stirred. He returned around three at which point they usually headed out into the small town. When diner food began to get on their nerves, they went as far as to venture to the Farmer's Market where the Amish sold fresh fruits and vegetables from their family stands. There was also a flea market that Kate absolutely fell in love with all sorts of knick knacks, some so old they were probably worth a small fortune in the right circles. Kate never actually bought anything, but she loved to browse the stands, smiling politely at the sales people.

By the third week of their stay in the Bed & Breakfast, Kate was more than used to this routine and was more than a bit surprised to find it disturbed by the presence of the old woman at the bottom of the stairs when she came down in the morning. Sawyer was gone, as usual, but by now she hardly noticed. At eight, when she got up, Kate simply made the main bed, put away Sawyer's cot with the sheets still pulled on top of it, and stored it away in the closet. Usually she would eat breakfast by herself, either at the diner or what was already provided by the Bed & Breakfast, but before she could make it to the door her attention was redirected towards the woman.

"Good morning, dear," she smiled pleasantly at Kate. "Off to breakfast?"

"Yes, Ellen," about a week into their stay, the owner of the little inn had told them her name and said since they were clearly planning to be here a while, they might as well call her by her first name.

"Where's that handsome man of yours?" the woman asked, folding up a freshly washed bed sheet. "I hardly see him anymore, you know. Leaves at dawn, don't come back till the afternoon. You tell 'im to show his face around here more often."

Kate laughed at the old woman's obvious interest. She glanced down at her shoes, curls falling around her face to hide the blush that spread over her checks at the idea of Sawyer being 'her man.'

"He's working," she replied. "Some cattle farm a few miles down the road. I haven't been there yet."

"You turn down a chance to see that boy on a high horse?" Ellen whistled, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I just haven't gotten around to it," Kate said and started towards the door again.

"You gonna be here much longer?" Ellen asked

Kate turned her head, slightly weary for some reason, but managed to hide it behind a look of surprise. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "Why?"

"Well," the woman shrugged. "Figured if you two were planning to stick around, paying eighty bucks a night seems kind of pointless. Anyway, you look like nice kids, so I'll tell you what. You help me out around the place while that man of yours is at work, and we'll call it even for the room. What do you say?"

The proposition sounded great to Kate. She liked the small inn and doing something to help out would keep her mind busy. Plus the idea of bringing in some money pleased her. Since she'd met him, Kate knew she had been nothing but an expenditure for Sawyer, not having made a cent and with only a few thousand in rolled up hundred dollar bills in her duffel bag to spare. She felt guilty about it, so Kate figured this was her chance to at least return back some of what she owed him.

"That sounds great," she told Ellen. "When do I start?"

"How about right now?" the woman suggested. "Mind the front desk till about three, and you'll earn your day's keep. After that, be here from seven to three, and we'll call it even. I'd offer you the afternoon," she smiled, "but that's when your boy gets back, and if I kept you from someone that good looking... well, that just wouldn't be right."

Kate had to laugh at that and nodded.

"Well, go get your breakfast, girl," Ellen jabbed her finger out the door. "God knows, you don't seem to like my cooking." Kate opened her mouth to object, but the woman waved her off impatiently. "Eh, my husband didn't like it much either. Maybe that's why he went and keeled over a few years back. You just be back in an hour and ready for work."

She did just that, getting herself a plate of pancakes and cup of coffee. Remembering that she now had work to hurry too, Kate didn't dwell long in the diner, but couldn't help watch the people pass by for a little while. After some time, however, the steady calm that came with the view turned to a kind of sadness Kate knew she couldn't avoid when she remained somewhere for too long. It was the kind of sadness that came from knowing that there was no point in falling in love with any place because Kate knew perfectly well that she would never be able to settle anywhere permanently.

Eventually she got back to the Bed & Breakfast and settled down behind the main desk. Kate didn't even notice the time pass by as she organized papers and marked off the few taken rooms. When the front door opened, Kate looked up, expecting it to be another guest, but was quite surprised to see Sawyer stride through the door with a wide grin on his face.

"You're back early," she commented, putting the pen she was writing with down on the desk.

"Early?" Sawyer frowned at her, but his grin never really disappeared. "Freckles, you must've lost time somewhere. I was about to tell you the reason why I'm late. It's three thirty."

Kate looked up at the old grandfather clock in the corner and saw that it was indeed later than she expected. She got up, pulling out a yellow sticky pad, and jotted down a note for Ellen, thanking her for the first day of work. Sawyer, meanwhile, was looking curiously around the desk.

"What's all this?" he asked, indicating her position at the front desk.

"Oh," Kate smiled, proud of herself. "I got a job, too. Ellen needs some help around the inn, and we get a free stay."

"Really?" Sawyer's eyes lit up with interest. "Well, it's about time you started earning your keep 'round here, sweetheart."

Interestingly enough, it was exactly what Kate had been thinking earlier, but the way Sawyer had said it made her smile. He didn't grudge her in the lease, and that knowledge put Kate at ease.

"I guess we have even more of a reason to celebrate," Sawyer said.

"We have something to celebrate?" she asked and watched as he pulled out a wad of cash out of his jean pocket and waved it in one hand.

"Yep, first payday," he grinned again. "Six hundred forty ain't that much, but it's something. And with your new contribution, well, I think we've got something here worth celebrating."

* * *

Not that there was any proper way to calibrate in Lancaster. Certainly it wasn't New York, where a celebration might possibly entail another night of dancing and dress up. Here, it consisted mostly of a trip to Accomac Inn, a less fancy, though still quite elegant restaurant with a view of the Susquehanna River. They enjoyed dinner, which had been complete with the best home-cooked desert Kate had ever tasted. 

A few hours later, they were striding through the flea market once again. The smile that tugged at the corners of Kate's lips never left her face as she browsed through the stands, carelessly letting her fingers run over the merchandise. She was mindful not to walk too quickly, knowing full well that Sawyer, who had little interest in all of this 'junk' was probably several steps behind her. She could almost see him in her mind's eye, hands probably in his pockets, carelessly kicking at the dirt with his shoe. The image made her giggle.

"What are you smilin' at?" she stopped and let him catch up with her.

"Nothing," she replied, though on the inside Kate was still laughing. As predicted, Sawyer's hands were shoved deep into his pant pockets, and she hooked her own arm through his. Any onlooker would have probably taken them to be a couple, and it occurred to Kate that she didn't exactly mind. This was, after all, the closest they've been since..._ Baby steps_, she told herself. _Just take it one baby step at a time._

"What's the matter, Freckles?" Sawyer himself didn't seem to mind the closeness one bit. "Locals scarin' you that much?"

Kate turned her head and looked over his shoulder at the family of Amish who passed by them. The men all had long beards, and the women were dressed in long skirts with their hair pulled back in tight buns. All of their clothes seemed somehow colorless.

"Some people prefer simplicity," she told him.

"Yeah, and some of us prefer the real world," Sawyer replied, and Kate rolled her eyes at that.

"Then I think Jack should rethink his decision," she commented. It was only meant as a joke, but the comment caused Sawyer to stop and frown down at her.

"What decision?" his voice was suddenly serious.

"Oh it's just something he said back in Boston about you," she shrugged. "He said if he was ever stranded on a deserted island, he'd rather be stranded with you than anyone else. But I'm saying he might want to rethink that, since apparently you can't picture life without electricity."

"Yeah, well, Jack's a dick," Sawyer muttered under his breath.

"Since when?" Kate's eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and Sawyer gave himself a mental kick.

_Stop speaking every thought that enters your head_, for some reason the admonishing voice in his mind sounded a lot like Christian. _You might accidentally reveal stupidity._

"Jack and me butted heads 'fore I left," the partial truth was better than lying to her entirely, Sawyer figured. "Nothin' to loose your hair over."

"And you haven't talked to him since then?" Kate sounded disappointed. "Why don't you call him?"

"Because," he snapped back. "If he wants to talk to me, I'm sure Chris would be more than happy to give him my number."

Sawyer walked off, not offering a further explanation. Kate simple shook her head, wondering why men had to make everything so complicated. She was about to call back to him that if she had a best friend like Jack, she wouldn't be so quick to write him off or take him for granted, but at that moment something in one of the booths caught Kate's eye, and it suddenly occurred to her that she had done just that.

He'd expected her to follow him, to not let go of the subject that easily, so when Sawyer noticed that he was still walking alone, he turned around to see what had held her up. What he saw was Kate standing in front of a sales booth, her eyes fixed on a mobile hanging from a hook just an inch over her head. There was nothing terribly special about it that he could note. It was just a simple mobile, like those that were hung over an infant's crib, with two toy air plains hanging off of strings, spinning around when the wind blew. Sawyer supposed that an infant or even toddler would have probably been greatly amused by the sight of the two planes following each other around in a never ending circle, but he couldn't understand when Kate was so fixated on it.

"Hey," he called out for her, and when she didn't respond Sawyer's brow furrowed in concern. He took a few strides back to where she stood and stepped behind her, gently taking her by the shoulders. Kate flinched, suddenly jolted out of her memories by his touch. When she turned to face him, his hands still resting on her shoulders, Sawyer saw a familiar look of confusion in her eyes. The same look she sometimes wore in the morning right after she opened her eyes and hadn't yet had time to reacquaints herself with her surroundings.

"You okay?" there was genuine concern in his voice.

"What?" Kate blinked, placing both hands against his chest for support, and looked around in confusion. "Sorry, I guess I spaced there for a second."

"No kidding," Sawyer still looked concerned. "Wanna tell me what that was all about, Freckles?"

Kate seemed to consider it, then shook her head. "No," she whispered. "Not quite yet."


	28. Chapter 28

**_Author's Note:_** Hey guys new chapter. Just something cute before bad stuff starts to happen again. Enjoy all the skate . **Episode Connections:** The 23rd Psalm (the only skate scene there)

**Chapter 28**

One thing that had certainly become a lot less convenient since Kate started working was sharing the bathroom in the morning. Not that either of them took a particularly long time, but the space was limited and bumping into each other when both were half dressed and half awake was not the same thing as standing close together when they went into town. Not that Sawyer minded, of course, but Kate was less than completely comfortable with the situation. For reasons Sawyer couldn't yet explain, her disposition in the morning was always much more guarded, a guard that generally diminished as the day went on.

However, one particular morning, several weeks after their visit to the flea market, he was more than a bit surprised to see her awaken first. What was even more surprising was that the bathroom door was wide open, and Kate was standing in front of the sink, still in her blue nightgown, looking suspiciously cheerful. Was she... humming? Sawyer cocked his head to the side to stare at her from a different angle, but it didn't help. No matter which way he twisted it, the scene in front of him seamed absolutely bizarre.

Kate finally noticed that he had sat up on his cot. She had been playing with her hair, trying to tie it up in all sorts of ponytails, first with a rubber band then with a ribbon. Seeing Sawyer awake, she forgot all about her hair, letting it fall back around her shoulders in an untidy mess.

"Morning," she smiled at him.

Sawyer stared at her for another minute. Something just didn't add up. "Morning," he replied, though clearly quite confused.

"What?" Kate laughed at the suspicious look he was giving her.

"Oh, nothing," he shrugged, swinging both legs over the edge of the cot. "You standing in front of the mirror playing with your hair. Totally normal thing to wake up to. Not that I'm complainin', but should I be worried, Freckles?"

"No," she laughed again. "Come here."

Now Sawyer's brows really drew together tightly. Was she aware that he slept in his boxers? For the last month, she'd adopted the habit of looking away if he so much as had his shirt off, and now she wanted him to come to her when they were both less than completely dressed? Not that he was complaining, but as he slowly made his way towards the bathroom, Sawyer wondered if he should check her nightstand for drugs.

When his bare feet touched the cool tiles, Kate turned away from the mirror to face him. She looked up at him thoughtfully then, to Sawyer's greatest surprise, reached up and ran her fingers across his cheek. Her soft digits instantly encountered the rough stubble there that had accumulated quite a bit over the weeks.

"Just as I thought," she tapped his chin playfully. "You're gross."

With that statement, Kate reached for the razor that lay on the sink and jumped up to sit on the counter top behind her. She held up the razor for Sawyer to see and gave him a devilish smile.

"You trust me?"

"When you're like this?" Sawyer raised one eyebrow at her. "Honestly..."

Kate didn't give him a chance to finish because the bottle of shaving cream was already in her hands. She dispensed a generous amount onto her palms before rubbing her hands together to get an even layer. Slowly, she ran both hands across his cheeks and down to his chin, making sure to cover every blade of hair. Sawyer stood still, simply enjoying the feeling of her hands on his flesh again. Did she realize that they hadn't touched skin to bare skin in over four weeks? And now here she was, sitting on the counter in her nightgown, legs dangling down unceremoniously, and he was standing so close that if he just touched her... if he just reached out...

If he reached out, she would run. Sawyer had absolutely no doubt about it. Better do as he promised and take things slow. If Kate was giving him a hint, he'd take it, but he wasn't so sure that was what she was doing. Taking a deep breath, Sawyer tried to curb his more primitive impulses.

"So to what do I owe this pleasure?" he asked. "Ain't like you can complain about the fuzz."

"Do you even know what today is?" Kate rolled her eyes at him.

"Tuesday... I think," it was hard to keep track of the days of the week when all one did was work on a farm all day. Somehow, eventually everything became predictable and monotone.

"It's the Fourth of July," Kate replied. "Now hold still."

Expertly, as if she'd done this for him for years, she slid the razor over his skin, removing the shaving cream and stubble that had accumulated there. Kate tipped his chin up to giver her better access to his throat. Sawyer wanted to make a comment about her cutting it a little too close but decided that should he do that, she might let the razor slip, whether by accident or not.

Eventually all the stubble was cleared, and Kate wiped away the remaining shaving cream with a wet towel. Sawyer felt strange, having kept at least some measure of facial hair for most of his adult life, but Kate seemed pleased enough. She grinned and hopped off the counter to let him get a better look at his face in the mirror. A younger looking man stared back at him, someone he almost didn't recognize. But apparently Kate approved of the new look.

"Much better," she nodded. "I think I took some years off with that hair. Now you actually look twenty-nine."

Sawyer couldn't agree more, but it wasn't so much the loss of age that pleased him as it was the simple fact that he was suddenly remembered what he looked like before... well, before his current life began. In the glass, he saw a man unburdened by guilt or the years he'd endured living a life that he himself was disgusted with. Only his eyes betrayed the truth. Disturbed, he looked away.

"You got somethin' planned for today, Freckles?" he finally asked.

"We both do," Kate replied, rinsing off the blade. "There are fireworks tonight after dark. One of the local high schools... well, the only high school, actually... always holds a firework display on their football field for the entire area. Ellen told me it's not to be missed."

"And of course you signed me up for this salute to the red, white, and blue. It ever occur to you that I might not wanna go?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Kate asked innocently.

"Oh, fine," Sawyer rolled his eyes and headed back into the room to pick up his clothes off the chair.

"Where are you going?" she called after him.

"Work," he shot back. "Animal's ain't gonna feed themselves. Fourth of July or not." He pulled on his clothes and sat down to tie his shoe laces. Sawyer could feel her staring at him from the bathroom doorway. When he looked up, her arms were crossed and she was thoughtfully chewing on her thumbnail. "What?"

"Nothing," she smiled, shaking her head. "Don't forget to get back on time, so we can get a good spot. I'll see you later tonight."

"Good spot," Sawyer muttered to himself as he walked out of the room and downstairs. "As if anyone cares about some stupid fireworks anyway."

* * *

It turned out that people actually did care. The football field of the relatively small high school was filled with people, mostly families who settled down on blankets to watch the fireworks. Children ran all over the place, laughing and slinging mud balls at each other while their parents yelled at them to stop. Teenagers, who were probably more interested in causing mischief while everyone else was occupied than with the actual fireworks themselves, hung around the bleachers.

Kate had, however, thought ahead and brought a blanket, borrowed from Ellen, who had been more than happy to loan it to her as soon as she heard what it was for. They laid it out on a spot of grass a few yards away from the bigger crowd. The blanket was small so they sat quite closely, shoulders touching. The display wasn't due to start for another twenty minutes, but Sawyer was already beginning to fidget.

"It's been over two months," her heard her say thoughtfully.

"Humm," Sawyer blinked and turned his head to her. "What'd you say?"

"Two months since we first met," Kate repeated. "That night in April, behind the Boston bar. It was... the twenty-sixth, I think."

"Twenty-seventh," he corrected her absently, and Kate smiled, slightly squeezing his hand.

"Right, twenty-seventh," she nodded. "God, I never imagined things would turn out like this."

"Yeah," Sawyer agreed. "Life's just fulla surprises."

"If things had been different," Kate continued her musing. "You would probably still be back in Boston. I would be God-knows where or..." she bit her lip, stopping herself from saying that she might have been captured by Edward Mars. Bringing up the late Marshal was guaranteed not to end well. Sawyer, who clearly guessed what she was about to say, grew silent again.

"No point in wishing things were different," he said, " 'cause they ain't. Besides," a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Chances are I woulda gone up in smoke along with my apartment. What say we call it even, huh, Freckles?"

"Yeah, you're right," Kate relented and looked away.

"What's with the face?" Sawyer asked, frowning at her.

"Just a feeling," she seemed sad for a moment. "I have this feeling we're not gonna be able to stay here much longer. Somehow we never do."

"You got somewhere to be?"

"No," Kate sighed. "Not anymore. Oh, look it's starting!"

Sawyer looked up as the first set of fireworks shot into the air and exploded above in brilliant shades of green, red, orange, and blue. He climbed to his feet in order to get a better look, and suddenly Kate was no longer looking at the fireworks. She saw him on the background of the evening sky dazzled with lights. Everything seemed to almost fall into slow motion as Sawyer turned back to her, his profile outlined by the fireworks. Something about the way he stood there, tall and sure of himself, made Kate think that he belonged here in the quiet countryside. She didn't know that Sawyer himself had thought the same thing about her on several occasions.

"Hey," she smiled and held out her hand for him to sit back down. "You're blocking my view."

"Oh, really?" he grinned slyly, sitting down nonetheless, this time behind her. "Thought you were enjoying the other view."

"Get over yourself," Kate rolled her eyes, but she didn't complain when his hands rested on her shoulders, and she slowly leaned back to rest against his chest. Kate closed her eyes, but in the back of her mind she couldn't shake the feeling that this period of tranquility wouldn't last.


	29. Chapter 29

**_Author's Note:_** I don't know where my head has been these past few months. Somehow it all feels like one giant blur with school and parent drama and roommate drama. I'm so stressed it's not even funny. Worst part, my physics final (the subject that is the bane of my existence) is on my birthday, May 15th. So freakin' stressed! ahem Anyway I guess I finally got my act together. As always, great thanks goes out to Amanda (Kinsella) for beta reading and helping me with ideas. Thank Laura (xfatex) and Chris (Chris Anthony) for nagging me enough and helping me get my mind frame back into this story. Thank, Dark Secret, for loyally bumping this story even if I never asked. And of course thank you to all my loyal readers for sticking with me through my temporary insanity. I love you guys. **Episode Connections:** What Kate Did.

**Chapter 29**

The feeling of dread didn't leave her when they returned to the inn. If anything it grew stronger. Kate couldn't explain exactly what it was, but there seemed to be a buzz in the back of her mind that told her it was time to go. She attributed it too a well-developed sixth sense of danger that she'd acquired after years on the run, but it was nearly supernaturally strong, and almost always right. It was this sense of the gathering dark cloud that kept Kate awake the night after the fireworks. Sawyer had been asleep for hours, resting in dreamless slumber on the cot, but Kate's eyes were still wide open as she stared into the ceiling. If she were honest, she would have admitted that the feeling had grown ever since she saw the toy mobile. Something was nagging at her, something she couldn't exactly identify.

Kate lay in bed, sleeplessly staring up at nothing in particular. She looked over to the alarm clock on the night stand that blinked three thirty and rolled over, trying to find a good spot. She got up, hoping that a drink of water might help her sleep, but on the way from the bathroom, Kate was startled by a sound from the window. She'd become familiar with all the sounds of the Amish county, and while it was a familiar sound, Kate knew there were no horses anywhere near the inn.

Later Kate would claim that she didn't remember putting on her slippers or going downstairs. She only remembered staring into the distance as the road zig zagged into the plains. She heard the noise behind her again and turned around, coming face to face with a sleek black horse. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating to let in as much of the scarce light as possible, allowing her a better look at the animal. It was completely black with no distinguishing markings whatsoever, not even a saddle or harness, but as she stared at it, the animal slowly trotted towards her, as if it knew her.

Not exactly knowing what it was that drove her, Kate reached out with a shaking hand, and the animal nuzzled its nose into her palm. Perhaps it was the fact that it was so late at night and despite her hyper aware state, she was really exhausted, but Kate could have sworn there was something distinctly familiar about the animal. Suddenly its head flew up as if it was spooked by a noise Kate herself didn't hear. Turning back to the road, the horse took off with a gallop and quickly disappeared into the blackness of the night.

* * *

Sawyer didn't know exactly what had woken him. He had slept without nightmares and there was no reason why he suddenly bolted straight up, fully awake and his heart pounding. He blinked several times, trying to identify the reason for the sudden awareness. Not seeing anything actually off, he was almost ready to go back to sleep before the upturned sheets and empty bed caught his attention. 

The sight got him out of bed and on his feet in an instant. The light was left on in the bathroom but he couldn't see Kate inside. Her clothes were still lying on the chair, bag thrown on the ground next to the closet, so Sawyer was fairly sure that she hadn't decided to run in nothing but her nightgown. Cursing under his breath, Sawyer began to get dressed. Times like this he wondered why he stuck around.

He didn't have to go far to look for her. When he came outside, dressed in only his sweat pants, Kate was standing in the middle of the dirt road. Her back was to him, but Sawyer could see her fists clenching and relaxing in a regular pulse. Slowly, so as not to startle her, he approached Kate from behind.

"Freckles?" he called cautiously. He wasn't sure how much of her was actually awake and knew that he would have to be careful. She didn't respond, so Sawyer walked around her, searching her face for any signs of life, but her eyes seemed empty. She looked like she was staring through him and seeing something entirely different. Something haunting.

"Kate?" he tried again, inching closer. Sawyer reached out and tentatively touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers.

The touch seemed to do the trick. She blinked ounce, her pupils expanding and contracting in an attempt to refocus her vision. Before she completely came back to herself, Sawyer caught her mumble something that sounded a bit like. "I have to go back..."

He wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but at this point Sawyer was willing to play along. "Back to the inn?"

"Back home," she muttered, and Sawyer wasn't sure if it was an answer to his question or simply a continuation of her original thought.

"Where's home?" he tried, but Kate turned away from him without uttering another word. "Okay, Freckles. Whatever you like, but what say we do this in the morning?"

She stared at him for a few more seconds before her eyes cleared completely, though it took a little while for her to refocus. Her hand reached up to touch his fingers, still resting on her cheek. "Sawyer?"

"Yeah," he affirmed, still staring down at her in a mixture of confusion and concern. "Damn, Freckles, you never told me you were prone to sleepwalking."

"I don't sleepwalk," Kate frowned as if the idea seemed completely ridiculous to her.

"No," Sawyer crossed his arms over his chest, his voice carrying the tone with which one would speak to a small child. "I'm sorry. I don't seem to recall you runnin' around in your nightgown in the middle of the night. Musta slipped my mind."

"I was... looking for something," Kate glared at him but had to admit that he was right. To any onlooker, she must have been quite an odd spectacle, standing barefoot in the middle of the dirt road in her nightgown.

"It couldn't wait till morning?" Sawyer questioned, growing increasingly annoyed.

"I guess," she glanced over her shoulder one more time, but the horse was gone, if it had ever been there to begin with. The memory of the animal was becoming more and more blurry with every passing second to the point where Kate was no longer sure that she hadn't just imagined it. The hour was very late, and she was exhausted after all.

"I think maybe we should both go back to bed," she suggested with a yawn. "Sorry for getting you up."

"Hey, I'll live," he shrugged as both began to walk back towards the inn. Though he didn't show it, Sawyer was actually relieved that she was back to normal, though a part of him still worried over the cause of the episode. But this was not the time to ask about it. Whatever she had been through, Kate was obviously not left unscarred, both mentally and physically. Enough pain could really change a person.

When they got back upstairs, Kate immediately headed for the bathroom to wash her hands and feet. What she really wanted was a shower, but that could wait till morning. While the night had begun plagued with insomnia, at the moment, she felt like she could literally collapse. Kate emerged a few moments later and saw that Sawyer was already making himself comfortable atop his cot. She bit her lip, hesitating for a second, but finally made up her mind.

"Sleep with me tonight," the man's head snapped up in surprise. At any other point, he would have surely made a lewd comment, but Sawyer was too taken aback by the request.

"Come again?"

"Sleep with me," she repeated, catching herself on the choice of words. "I mean, by me..."

"I got it," Sawyer held up his hand to stop her.

Without another word, he kicked off his shoes and circled the bed to stand on the side closest to the window. Kate still seemed a bit hesitant, but when Sawyer sat down and swung his legs onto the bed to lay on top of the covers, she relaxed a bit. Lying down on her side, she made herself comfortable under the sheets, but faced away from him, choosing to instead stare at the small light that was left on in the bathroom. A touch on her shoulder caused her to stiffen for a moment, but she turned her head, slightly weary of what she would see in his eyes. To her surprise there was no hint of his usual callous character, nothing but understanding and patience. She rolled over to face him and offered a weak smile. Sawyer's hand slipped from her shoulder to come to rest on the space on the pillow between them. Kate looked down at it before her own smaller hand came to cover his.

"Thank you," she whispered and attempted to stifle a small yawn

"Sure thing, little girl," he nodded, though Sawyer wasn't entirely sure what it was she was thanking him for. "Think you can sleep now?"

Kate nodded, her eyes already fluttering closed. "Sawyer..." she mumbled, already half immersed in slumber.

"Yeah?"

"We're leaving tomorrow, aren't we?"

"Seem to remembered you sayin' something about it," he replied.

"Good."

The digits on the alarm clock were already flashing 11:46 when Kate finally opened her eyes, feeling well rested. The spot to her left where Sawyer had slept was empty and quite cold, indicating that he'd left several hours ago. Rubbing the last remainder of sleep from her eyes, Kate sat up and stretched. As her hand fell back down on the sheets, her fingers came in contact with a piece of paper. Frowning, she picked it up and read it.

_Freckles,_

_Stuff's packed and by the door, and we're all checked out. Best be outta there by twelve. Don't want some housekeeper to see ya half-naked from the shower, now do ya? I told Ellen we were leavin, so all you gotta do is grab our stuff and get the car. I'm pickin' up my last check, so if you could come by the ranch, that'd be swell. Here's a map to help you out._

_See ya soon,_

_Sawyer_

Kate stared down at the squiggly lines at the bottom of the sheet and had to laugh. Was this really his idea of a map? No wonder men had such a horrible sense of direction. Luckily he'd thought enough to jot down the name of the ranch so she was pretty sure she'd be able to find it.

It took her less than ten minutes to take a quick shower and get ready. Standing at the door with their few bags in her hands, she took one last look around the room. Kate would miss the peace and quiet of the Amish country, but she knew that sooner or later, she would overstay her welcome. It was better to leave on her own before that happened. Besides, as soon as she'd made the decision to leave, she felt a certain amount of weight lifted off her shoulders. Downstairs, Ellen was once again managing the front desk on her own. When she saw Kate descending the stairs, the older woman smiled at her.

"I'm sorry to see you go, dear," she told her. "We'll miss your help around here and the sight of that man of yours."

"I'll miss you too," Kate replied politely. "Thank you for the hospitality."

"Where are you off to, anyway?" Ellen asked.

"I don't know," Kate admitted, and it was half the truth. She had a vague destination in mind, but she wasn't sure yet. Besides, there was no reason to give out more information than necessary.

"Well, wherever you go, good luck," the old woman nodded at her. Kate thanked her again and was out the door.

She threw the bags in the trunk of the car and got in. Glancing one more time over Sawyer's scribbles, Kate pictured the roads and smaller streets in her mind. Crumpling up the paper and tossing it out the window, she started the car and drove off. Luckily it didn't take her long to find the ranch. She spotted the sign and parked the car on the other side of the road. There was no sign of Sawyer, but she spotted one of his plaid shirts tossed on the nearest fence post. Kate didn't want to snoop particularly close to the main house, so she got out of the car and crossed the road to lean on the wooden fence that separated the grazing cattle from the open planes.

"Hey, way to sleep in!" a familiar voice called out to her. "I thought I'd get an extra hour of work in."

"You're the one who gave me till twelve," Kate shouted back. Even though she couldn't see him, she knew Sawyer had heard her. A moment later she heard the sound of trotting hooves against the dirt, and Kate's green eyes widened at the sight.

Sawyer was riding towards her, strands of his blond hair sticking to his sweat covered forehead while the rest of it was free for the wind to play with. His tan skin seemed to shine in the sun, stretching over perfectly toned muscle. Kate felt a blush creep over her cheeks and quickly chastising herself. But those school girl thoughts quickly gave way to bewildered surprise when she noticed the horse he was riding. The glossy black horse.

Even from a distance, he noticed the change in her expression and rode up to the fence, frowning down at her from the saddle.

"What's the matter?" Kate didn't reply, reaching out to pet the animal's nose as she had done the previous night. It seemed to remember her and once again nuzzled into her palm. Now it was Sawyer's turn to be surprise.

"You know that horse, Freckles?" he inquired, slightly confused.

"Yeah, I do," there was a note of wistfulness to her voice.

"Okay..." he nodded, still not quite understanding what was going on. "I gotta go pick up that last paycheck. Wait for me here?"

Kate nodded and he rode back towards the house, but she could have sworn she saw the horse turn its head in her direction for a moment. She bowed her head, absently looking down at her hands, and smiled. Sawyer probably didn't know it, but he and the horse actually had a lot in common. Both had, at least on one occasion, saved her from imprisonment or death, and asked nothing in return. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She definitely knew Sawyer wanted _something_, but at least he had the decency not to pressure her.

"I'm sorry," Kate whispered to no one in particular, "but please wait a little longer."

_At least_, she thought, _something good _did_ come out of the trip to Lancaster_. Now she knew where she needed to go from here.

**_Author's End Note:_** Way back when in the Skate forum we had a discussion if Kate and Sawyer could sleep together without actually having sex. The first part of this chapter came out of that discussion. I hope everyone liked it. I'm not sure when the next update will be since I have finals coming up but I hope it will be soon.


	30. Chapter 30

**_Author's Note: _**Yes I know it's been forever. When I took a break I never thought it would stretch out this long. Sadly muses and work and school are temperamental things, and I've been up to my eyeballs with the other two. I'm not quite sure how I misplaced my muse since I planed out this fic till the end, but somehow it happened. Well, I'm back now. I can't promise weekly updates as I did before (not for a while anyway) but I will try to update as soon as I can. Thank you so much for all of you who encouraged me to keep going with this. I apologize in advance if this chapter is short and seems slow, but I promise the next one will be better.

**Chapter 30**

Sawyer garbed his discarded shirt off the fencepost and climbed in the passenger seat of the car since Kate had apparently staked a claim to driving. He was still a little unsure about what had happened last night or why they were leaving. The past two times they were forced to move due to obvious circumstances, but this time the move seemed random to him. He thought they had a good thing going in Lancaster. No, it wasn't the most extravagant lifestyle, but they managed and best of all it was peaceful. If Sawyer was honest with himself, he would have admitted that the idea of some day settling down in a place like this didn't sound half bad.

Of course, 'someday' was a long way away for him, and it may well have not existed at all for Kate. Which begged the question: why was she so eager to leave?

"Where are we off to, Freckles?" he asked casually, leaning back. Sawyer was about to put his feat up on the dashboard when Kate glared at him.

"Iowa," she replied firmly, turning the key in the ignition.

"You don't say?" Sawyer raised a single eyebrow. "Any particular reason, or you just feelin' up for a road trip?"

"I'm not going there because I want to," she glared at him, pulling the car back onto the dirt road. "I need to go."

"Yeah, you said that last night during your little trip for fresh air. But seriously, the hell's in Iowa?"

"My mother," Kate replied and opened her mouth to say something else but thought better of it. She pulled the car back on the road and began to drive back towards the town. She could almost feel Sawyer gaping at her in shock but refused to turn around and face him. Kate didn't want to hear anything from him at the moment because that would mean that she'd have to explain, and the truth was that she couldn't even explain it to herself.

Four years, she'd stayed away. At first it was fear, then caution, that kept her from coming anywhere near her state, let alone her home. Reflecting back on the decision, Kate thought it was rather smart of her. If she was uncertain of her chances now, she knew for a fact that she would have been caught all-too quickly had she not stayed away. She'd been sixteen when she became a fugitive and though her life had never been easy, Kate couldn't have guessed how difficult it would turn. If she had run back home, she was certain that she'd be wearing an orange jumpsuit instead of a summer dress.

_Then why risk capture now?_ her voice of reason chided her. Especially after what happened in New York, why go back to the one place that was sure to still have the police department on high alert for her? _Becaus_e, Kate thought, as the yellows, browns, and greens of the countryside whipped past the car, _I got this far by trusting my instincts,and right now they're telling me it's time to go home._

But an hour later, by the time they entered the nearest highway, doubt once again tugged at her. She looked at Sawyer slouched in the seat next to her, gazing out the window with feigned interest. He wasn't about to press the matter, she knew that much, even if he did think this was the stupidest idea she ever had. Trouble seemed to find them no matter what, whether from his life or hers, so did it really matter that this time they were driving into it willingly. _At least I'll know to stay on guard_, she mused, but couldn't help voicing her doubt.

"You don't have to come with me, you know," she said quietly. "Chicago is sort of on the way. I can come back for you, if you like."

"Ditchin' me already, Freckles?" his voice was a mixture of amusement with a hint of confusion. "What? I ain't good enough to bring home to mama?"

"You know it has nothing to do with you," he could be such a child sometimes. "Ever occur to you I don't want you to go to jail for helping a wanted criminal?

"Ever occur to you that if they catch us I'll go to jail as a regular criminal?" Sawyer shot back, anger rising in his voice, before he caught himself. "Anyway, you should have thought of that two months ago. If we get caught, what difference does it make where?"

"Guess it doesn't," she grew quiet again, and this time it was Sawyer who broke the silence.

"Look I know you don't feel like sharing whatever happened or why you think it's so important to go back now, but at least do _you_ know why you're going back?"

If she told him that they were driving across four state lines based on a whim, he'd thinks she was crazy and might even try to stop her. A half-truth was better than nothing though.

"My dad sometimes sends me money to a motel along the way," she said careful. "Plus I have a friend around there I can trust. Hopefully I can get some news about my family, maybe even something from my uncle."

"This the same friend you 'played in the barn' with?" Sawyer jabbed slyly.

"Tom," Kate rolled her eyes at him before turning them back to the road, "his name is Tom."

Once again her tone told him it was best to drop the subject. Sawyer had been a little surprised to hear that the friend she spoke of so often and with such fondness was man. Even while he teased her, he imagined Kate as a child laughing and running through the countryside next to another young girl. A boy in her stead painted a far different picture, and suddenly Sawyer's mood darkened. He propped his chin on the heel of his right hand and looked out the window. Kate didn't seem to notice.

"It's about a three to four day trip," she thought out loud. "If we drive no less than six hours a day, that is. We can stop outside of Pittsburgh tonight, then again tomorrow someplace west of Cleavland. Better avoid the cities themselves."

"Sounds like you got it all figured out," the southerner muttered, and this time she caught the moody tone.

"Is there a problem?" Kate asked, mildly annoyed.

"Nope, everything's just dandy," suddenly he thought of something and his face lit up in a wicked smile. "So, Pittsburgh, you say?"

"Somewhere outside of it, yeah," she replied, unsure where he was going with this. "It's a little past one now, so it'll be six or seven by the time we get there, and by the time we find a motel..."

"Ain't gonna need a motel," Sawyer's grin grew larger. "Pull out on the next exit and let me drive the rest of the way."

"Why?" but she was already maneuvering the car into the far right lane. "What are you up to this time?"

"You'll see when we get there," Sawyer leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, looking particularly pleased with himself. Kate didn't know whether she should be grateful that he didn't remain in a bad mood or worried about what he was plotting.

They came up on an exit a few minutes later, and Kate vealed off the highway, pulling the car up to the nearest gas station so that she and Sawyer could switch places and to fill the now nearly-empty tank. They had used the car sparingly while in Lancaster, but there hadn't been too many gas stations in the area where the main form of transportation was still a horse-drawn wagon. After the long stretch of highway, the road began to alternate between more open country where there was practically no other traffic to more highway that were practically choked with cars, since this was the road that connected Pittsburgh, Harrisburg, and Philadelphia, the three major cities of Pennsylvania.

Around four in the afternoon they pulled off the highway once more. There were no fast food places, but the smells coming from a small market down the street were quite appealing. The farmers selling the food were not Amish, but rather local growers who sold their fruits and vegetables along the common travel routs. There was even a small deli section where each grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of freshly squeezed lemonade. Kate also threw a few apples and peaches into a brown paper bag on her way to the register, while Sawyer meandered casually through the isles of tables with various sorts of produce piled on top of them. His back was to her when he picked something up, sniffed it, and tossed it into his own paper bad.

She didn't pay it any attention until after they got back to the car, and Sawyer was once again seated behind the wheel, his purchase stashed away in the side door pocket. Kate eyed it curiously, then reached into her bag, pulling out a greed apple almost twice the size of her fist. She bit into it, glad that it was the hard sour kind instead of the mushy sweet one, and then pulled out a second, holding it out to Sawyer.

"Want one?" she asked, her mouth full with the juicy pulp.

"Thanks, but later," Sawyer waved it away.

"What's in the bag?" she finally asked, curiosity getting the best of her.

"That's for later, too," the corner of his lips turned up in the same devious smirk he had on since he started driving.

"Since when are food purchases so mysterious?" Kate didn't wait for an answer before she reached across his lap for the bag, but Sawyer caught her wrist first.

"Later," he tried to shove her back gently. When she didn't relent, he leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. Kate was so started that she stared at him wide-eyed, and Sawyer was pleased to note that the look on her face didn't hold a trace of annoyance.

"Later," he repeated in a softer tone before straightening in his seat and pulling out of the makeshift parking, the wheels picking up clouds of dust behind the car. Out of the corner of his eye, Sawyer could see Kate stubbornly fold her hands under her chest, probably mentally cursing him, but she was smiling nonetheless. Pleased that everything seemed to be going according to plan, he veered towards the next highway entrance.


End file.
